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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23396299">Mating Games</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeallure/pseuds/strangeallure'>strangeallure</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Discovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anonymous Sex, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:35:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,330</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23396299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeallure/pseuds/strangeallure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Starfleet officers in good standing would rarely tread in seedy backwaters like this. Places where sitting in a corner and revealing a bit of cleavage is an invitation for patrons to try their luck and see if she’s free for the night.</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>And if the person is pretty, if their teeth aren’t too sharp and their eyes aren’t too soft, she just might be.</i></p>
<p>
  <b>Updated with an epilogue, enjoy!</b>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Burnham/Ash Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is pure, self-indulgent porn - and lots of it.</p>
<p>Thanks as always to Frangipani, who encouraged me to write this, gave me feedback on the first draft and kept pushing for me to post.</p>
<p>Title from Bitter:Sweet's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VljGLcxA1U">The Mating Game</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>Michael’s just about to empty her first glass when she notices a guy heading her way. He’s clad in black and grey, dark hair slicked back, with a confident smile that still manages to feel friendly. Stopping beside her, he crouches down and asks, “Can I get you another drink?”</p>
<p>“Sure,” she says. “Aldorian ale.”</p>
<p>She’s already sent two people away; not maliciously, she hopes, they seemed nice enough, but she’s been waiting for a certain spark, the heat of possibility rising in her belly when she locks eyes with someone in a place like this.</p>
<p>About twice a year, Michael finds a conference or a high-security errand to run that will take her close to non-Federation space. <em>The new frontier</em>, as Philippa likes to call it.</p>
<p>Seedy backwaters where one needs gold-pressed latinum or some other kind of currency, where Starfleet officers in good standing would rarely tread. Places where people are rough, honest about their urges and needs, where drunk fistfights break out and participants of said fights sometimes vomit in dark alleys. Places where sitting in a corner and revealing a bit of cleavage is an invitation for patrons to try their luck and see if she’s free for the night.</p>
<p>And if the person is pretty, if their teeth aren’t too sharp and their eyes aren’t too soft, she just might be. Because that’s what Michael is here for: a good time, a good fuck.</p>
<p>She’s mostly come to terms with these desires, has established this … <em>outlet</em> as a way to deal with them that won’t affect her day-to-day life, but sometimes, a familiar feeling of disgust seethes low in her gut, reminding her of her youth on Vulcan, where she learned to read these urges as signs of her inferiority, her humanity.</p>
<p>Soon, the tall stranger puts two sweating glasses of ale on the table and slides into the chair next to hers. He’s close, but not oppressively so, and his hand rests easily on the table, a few inches away from hers.</p>
<p>“What brings you here tonight?” he asks, which is one of many questions Michael doesn’t care to answer. She doesn’t want to exchange personal information, doesn’t want to get to know him. All she needs is enough of a read on him to determine if he’ll be worth her time.</p>
<p>“Since you have to ask, I assume you’re not a telepath,” she says, hoping it comes across as flirtatious, even if her inflection is a bit stilted, like it always is. She’s lived among Vulcans for too long.</p>
<p>His smile suggests he recognizes the deflection but doesn’t mind. “Nothing exciting like that, I’m afraid. Just human.”</p>
<p>Right now, human is good. Like most non-Vulcan species, humans love sex and aren’t shy about it. At every function, every celebration or party, they’re bound to pair up, making out and groping each other in dark corners, even with their superior officers in the same room. Eventually, and often unsubtly, they’ll leave together, mostly in twos, sometimes more, laughing and kissing and touching, finding the nearest quarters to live out their sordid appetites.</p>
<p>Michael wouldn’t debase herself like that in front of people she knows and respects, but for tonight, in this forsaken place, it’s exactly what she wants.</p>
<p>“Likewise.” She tilts her head. That’s not giving too much away. “If I <em>were</em> a telepath,” she asks with a slow raise of her eyebrow, “what would I be getting from you right now?”</p>
<p>He grins. “Nothing too scandalous,” he assures her.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“I like to stay in the moment, not get ahead of myself. And,” he lifts his glass to take a drink, and Michael makes note of how his throat works, how he licks his lips after he’s done, “I’m happy to admire something pretty when I see it. No need to go for broke right away.”</p>
<p>It sounds like a tease, although Michael isn’t sure what it’s about.</p>
<p>Damn, he’s handsome, though. His lips are full, his eyes dark and deep, and he has beautiful hands that look good wrapped around a glass, that would look good wrapped around her bare waist as she rides him.</p>
<p>“And if you were to go for broke right away?” she asks.</p>
<p>He briefly seems to ponder the question. “Sure,” he shrugs, “I’ll play.”</p>
<p>His mouth doesn’t entirely close after he’s said the last word, parted lips curling in a self-assured smile as he cocks his head.</p>
<p>“If I were to go for broke, I’d ask you to get out of here with me. I’d take your hand,” his fingers slowly walk across the table, close to hers, almost like he’s hitting a few bars on the piano, “and as soon as we find a nice, dark, corner, I’d back you up against the wall.” His index finger traces the outline of her palm. “Unless you beat me to it.” He has the nerve to wink, and it shouldn’t work on Michael as much as it does. “And then I’d kiss you.” He grins. “And if it’s as hot as I think it will be, I’d ask if you wanted to get a room, see where tonight could take us.”</p>
<p>“That seems tame,” she says sardonically. It’s not exactly what she had in mind when she said <em>go for broke</em>. “Handholding, kissing.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t have to be.” He flashes her a suggestive smile. “I just like to start slow, make sure we’re compatible, that we’re on the same page as to what feels good.”</p>
<p>It’s unexpected, how he both takes her bait and doesn’t, clearly communicating his intentions without any of it sounding dirty, and Michael’s intrigued as much as annoyed. “But you’d still want to fuck me, right?” she taunts.</p>
<p>He laughs again with that confusing warmth, as if he knows her, <em>likes</em> her, although they’re strangers. “Oh yeah. If that’s what you want, too, I’d love to fuck you all night. Give you what you need.” He holds her gaze, and it shouldn’t send a red-hot shiver down her spine, shouldn’t work her up like this. </p>
<p>Putting a carefully calibrated smirk on her face, Michael gets up from her chair, pointing her chin in the direction of the back entrance. “Let’s go then.”</p>
<p>He holds out his hand. “Lead the way.”</p>
<p>Once they’re a few strides into the alley, Michael tugs at his hand. “I thought you wanted to push me up against the wall.” Taunting him again, she isn’t sure why.</p>
<p>He puts a hand on her hip and turns her slowly, not pushing, guiding her back against cool brick, his tall frame casting a shadow over her, the broadness of his shoulders emphasized by his black leather jacket, his presence palpable although their bodies aren’t quite touching.</p>
<p>He leans down, lips close to hers. “I did say that,” he agrees and the ghost of his words is warm air against her waiting mouth.</p>
<p>His nose nudges hers playfully.</p>
<p>Before she can think too much, Michael closes the gap between them. His breath smells of ale and his mouth is as soft as she thought it’d be, but when she tries to pull him closer, pry his lips apart with her tongue, he resists, keeping some distance between them.</p>
<p>“Let’s take it slow, shall we?” he murmurs against her jaw. “I want to savor this. The first kiss is always something special.”</p>
<p>She makes a displeased noise, but when he moves back in for another press of softly exploring lips on hers, Michael can’t help going along.</p>
<p>Damn it, he’s good at this.</p>
<p>Soon enough, his palms are heavy on her hips as her eager hands explore beneath his jacket, feeling the way his back muscles bunch beneath his shirt. Their chests are pressed together, heightening Michael’s awareness of how their breathing grows heavy even as he keeps himself at an angle so their hips aren’t touching.</p>
<p>That doesn’t really work for her. Before they take this further, Michael wants to know what she’s buying. With ease from years of training in hand-to-hand combat, she adjusts her grip and rolls them around without breaking the kiss. Now he’s the one pushed against the wall, legs slightly splayed, Michael straddling one of them, crowding him, standing on the balls of her feet inside her boots to push her pelvis forward.</p>
<p><em>Oh yes</em>, she’s definitely buying. He’s nice and hard in his pants and when she grinds into the heat of his groin, he lets out a promising growl.</p>
<p>“I’m done going slow.” she announces, taking his face in her hands for a fierce, hungry kiss.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he pants when she finally takes a step back. “Want to get a room?”</p>
<p>“Sure,” she says, trying for a casual tone even as her pulse pounds with the need to get him alone. </p>
<p>They turn the corner and head for a hotel down the street. For a disreputable part of town, it’s a decent place, respectable enough that they don’t rent out rooms by the hour. Or if they do, they don’t advertise the fact.</p>
<p>As they’re crossing the street, he slings his arm around her waist and talks into her ear, “I’m on Cycle 9, how about you?” </p>
<p>Checking her protection status. Another point in his favor.</p>
<p>Michael’s glad he’s on Cycle 9. It’s standard in Starfleet and widely adopted on Federation core worlds, but in the farther reaches of the galaxy, where med centers are few and far between, it’s not that common, and even humans venturing out here sometimes miss their annual refresher.</p>
<p>“Me, too,” she replies, stopping her stride and pulling up her sleeve as he does the same. They press their pulse points together until there’s a faint blue glow on both their wrists that quickly dissipates. <em>Conception protection and STI prevention fully effective.</em> Excellent.</p>
<p>The way he takes her hand as he picks up the pace again feels strangely familiar although it shouldn’t.</p>
<p>“Impatient?” Michael asks, trying to mask her own eagerness.</p>
<p>He winks. “Absolutely.”</p>
<p>The stoic receptionist rattles off a short list of rules and room features, and by the time Michael’s retrieved the wallet from her jacket’s zipped-up inside pocket, her companion has already paid.</p>
<p>Upstairs, they open the door with an old-fashioned keycard. Michael takes a moment to survey their accommodations, taking off her shoes and nodding for him to do the same. </p>
<p>The walls are painted light blue and the big, utilitarian bed is low. Three pillows and three folded blankets are stacked on top of the covers. It dawns on Michael: this station is close to Navarii territory, so standard lodgings are set up for traditional Navarii throuples. More space isn’t a bad thing, and everything seems clean, no stains on the sheets or dust on the only decorative item in the room, an arrangement of candles placed on the table next to the replicator.</p>
<p>He shuts the door behind them and stays close, taking her hand and nudging his nose against her cheek.</p>
<p>“You want something to drink?” he asks and kisses her temple. “There’s water in the fridge by the bed, and we have two complimentary replicator rations.” It’s a repeat of what the receptionist said, so Michael figures this constitutes small talk. “Some music maybe? Or should we dim the lights?”</p>
<p>“I’m good,” she says and angles her mouth to kiss him, slower, less urgent than she herself would have anticipated. “And I like looking.”</p>
<p>He nibbles on her lower lip, then pulls away and locks eyes with her. “Oh yeah.” It sounds low, his voice rumbling against her ribcage where they’re pressed together. “I like looking, too.”</p>
<p>He walks Michael towards the bed until her calves hit the mattress, then slides beside her in an impressively fluid motion – especially considering how low the bed is – and pulls her into his lap.</p>
<p>In spite of his statement, his eyes are closed when he kisses her, long and lazy, with no immediate indication that he’s about to undress her.</p>
<p>“If you like looking, I suggest you open your eyes,” she teases, moving both hands around his jaw and tilting it up.</p>
<p>His eyes open but remain hooded.</p>
<p>“Who’s impatient now?” he says and kisses her again, this time with more force, his palms sliding up to shuck off her jacket, get under her top, caress her skin. She’s pawing at his clothes, too, quick to tug them off.</p>
<p>Michael leans back just enough to take in his body, long and lithe with nice shoulders and lean muscle and a patch of black hair curling on his chest.</p>
<p>“Not bad,” she murmurs and uses the opportunity to take her shirt off.</p>
<p>He makes a point to look her up and down, too, eyes dark as his hands gather heat against her waist, a solid touch. “Not so bad yourself,” he says and surges up to kiss her, his fingers stroking along her back, pushing warmth into her muscles. To her surprise, he doesn’t try and open her bra’s clasp, instead moving further up with his hands until his fingers meet at the nape of her neck, his thumbs resting against her pulse.</p>
<p>Michael wants to be annoyed at his pace, she usually prefers to get down to business fast, but this is good. He has his own ideas and agenda, and it’s a strangely welcome challenge, not knowing exactly what he wants, realizing that grinding down against his groin a few times won’t make him loose his cool and fuck her into the mattress. She rarely ever takes her time, especially when dicks are involved, so this has the added excitement of the new.</p>
<p>Eventually, he starts kissing down her chin and the column of her throat, murmuring, “Gorgeous, you’re so gorgeous.” It migh be just a line, but he already has her in bed, already knows he’ll get to fuck her, so what’s the point?</p>
<p>Nuzzling between her breasts, he licks along the seam of her bra, and Michael shivers in anticipation. He has a beautiful mouth and she wants it all over her, wants to look down and see him suck her nipple. Instead his head slides back across her breastbone and he kisses her lips, once, brief, before whispering in her ear: “So, what are you into?”</p>
<p>It stops her short. She’s never been asked about it like this, forthright and in advance. “I think it’s pretty clear,” she hears herself say.</p>
<p>“Okay, yeah,” he laughs in response, “but more specific than that.” His breath is humid against the whorls of her ear, and he holds her in an embrace that feels firm without being suffocating. “I’m down to play if you are.” He pulls away with a lazy grin. “That’s all I’m saying.”</p>
<p>“How about you tell me what <em>you’re</em> into?” she asks, deflecting.</p>
<p>“I’m easy to please,” he positively drawls the words. Like before, she has a feeling he’s on to her, even if he doesn’t call her out on it. “But I like holding off. I like eating pussy,” he fixes his gaze on her mouth and it feels lewd and intimate, “and I get off on making other people come.”</p>
<p>“Sounds almost too good to be true,” she says, her throat dryer than she’d like.</p>
<p>“Sounds like compatibility to me,” he counters with a twinkle in his eye.</p>
<p>She can’t help doubling down. “That’s a pretty low bar to clear then.” </p>
<p>He raises his eyebrows in a question.</p>
<p>“Finding someone to make you come is basically the reason you’d seek out an encounter like this.” The word <em>encounter</em> feels strange, too formal, but he doesn’t comment on it.</p>
<p>“Point taken,” he grants. “Just, if there’s anything you’d like to try, if you have any wishes that are out of the ordinary, I’m a willing participant in a lot of things.” He shrugs lightly. “One of the perks of anonymous sex: trying out what you might be hesitant to admit to and negotiate otherwise.” He moves back in and kisses her, another one of those slow kisses that shouldn’t feel this charged, this filthy. “Just putting it out there.”</p>
<p>“I’ll keep it in mind.” She moves up again to fuse their mouths together, her hands finding the button of his pants, nestling open his fly. His fingers slide inside the cups of her bra, gentle pressure sending low heat down her spine.</p>
<p>Michael moans as he bites his way down to her breasts again, and this time, he does take her bra off, starts kissing her skin. She’s squirming in his lap, eager to feel the hot press of his hard-on against the heat radiating from between her own legs.</p>
<p>He opens his mouth and when she pushes her chest out, he just opens wider and takes as much as he can between his lips, fingers rubbing soft circles around the other nipple, making it hard, making it ache. Everything is soft and inviting and different from how these things usually go, and it turns her on so much. Like taking the long way gives her additional pleasure she otherwise wouldn’t allow herself.</p>
<p>It occurs to her that he might have been honest when he said he enjoys holding off. Neither of them is naked yet. In fact, they’re both still wearing pants.</p>
<p>She nudges his head, growls, “Harder,” into the crown of his hair, but he barely increases pressure and suction, keeps up a rhythm that’s both a tease and a turn-on.</p>
<p>After pulling off of her breast, he looks up at her with clouded eyes and a smile on his red, wet lips.</p>
<p>“Always so impatient.” His cockiness makes Michael’s annoyance flare, but she isn’t in a position to contradict him, not when he’s so right about the effect he has on her.</p>
<p>It reminds her of half-forgotten fantasies, of shameful dreams and unhealthy desires, and when she looks at his open, shining mouth, her thoughts spiral back to his offer. She’ll never return to this place. This is anonymous. They won’t see each other again. If she wants to try something new, shocking and completely unlike herself; something that gets her hot and bothered, makes her burn with shame every time she thinks about it, this is the perfect place for experimentation. And he seems like the perfect partner.</p>
<p>Michael rolls down her hips, deliberate, satisfied by the way he arches in response, letting out a low sound. </p>
<p>“Suppose I wanted to play.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Based on the positive feedback, I decided to share the long version of this (still all glorious porn), which currently clocks in at about 23,000 words. I'll post in parts of about 3,000 words each. Technically, they're not exactly chapters, bu that's the only option AO3 offers. </p><p>Comments are much appreciated, as always ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I like the traffic light system.” There’s a huskiness in his voice even as he tries for a more neutral tone, his thumbs continuing to stroke circles across her skin. “Green is <em>more</em>, yellow is <em>slow down</em>, and red is <em>I want to stop</em>.”</p><p>“Sounds good.” It seems easy enough. “But why not just say stop?”</p><p>“It all depends on the kinds of game you want to play.” He grins at her lazily. “If we agree to take <em>stop</em> and <em>no </em>at face value, they’re off limits, but if we decide on a safeword like <em>red</em> or <em>soy sauce</em>,” the unexpected example makes the corner of her mouth twitch, “we could fully explore things like,” he presses his lips just below her ear and murmurs, “begging.” A nudge with his nose against her jaw, “or edging.” His lips whisper against the corner of her mouth, “or outright denial.” He catches her mouth with his, slow and sexy. Any traces of alcohol are long gone, and all she can taste is him. “Your call,” he says, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with her. “I’m happy to follow your lead.”</p><p>Michael leans in for another lingering kiss as she tries to sort through her thoughts. It’s like he already knows or at least suspects what she never thought she’d ask, what game she wants to play. Her mouth nuzzles along his cheek, up to his ear. It’s irrational, but she’s not sure she can give voice to these desires while looking at him. She might not go through with it then.</p><p>“So,” her teeth find his earlobe to pull on it, “if we agree that only red means stop, and I tell you I want you to,” she swallows through the tightness in her throat, “use me, taunt me, take me down a peg,” her heart pounds in her chest, and she tries to subdue the tremble in her voice, “make me beg for it, I could say, <em>No, stop, it’s too much,</em> but you wouldn’t? You’d just keep going?”</p><p>Even in a hypothetical, saying the words makes her cheeks burn and her pussy throb.</p><p>He hums his assent, “Exactly,” and closes his mouth over the racing pulse in her throat, sucking. “Although I might check in at first, ask for your color.” He kisses further down. “I’d rather get verbal confirmation you’re enjoying yourself than make too many assumptions.”</p><p>Having a beautiful man give her what she craves, what she usually couldn’t even articulate she wants. Playing a needy little thing for one night, desperate to get fucked, to come, and then leaving and never looking back.</p><p>No matter what Michael’s rational mind would say about this, the mere idea turns her on beyond belief.</p><p>“That makes sense,” she breathes as he nibbles along her collarbone. “Let’s do that.”</p><p>“Yeah, let’s.” He keeps nibbling, his hands gently stroking where her waistband gives way to skin, a reminder that there are too many clothes between them, that she wants to be naked with him. His mouth travels down to the swell of her breasts, and he breathes in her scent, deep and obvious, without any indication he’s about to advance further.</p><p>An irritated sound forms in the back of Michael’s throat, and she digs her fingers into his hair, trying to push him down. He won’t budge. Instead he tilts his head up and looks at her with parted, sinful lips.</p><p>“Uh-uh,” he hums, so close to her skin. “If you want something, ask for it.”</p><p>“Lower,” she says roughly, trying to push again. He gives an inch, kisses closer to the areola, around it, teasing her.</p><p>She makes another noise. “Come on,” she whines.</p><p>“Use your words.” His breath is humid against her sternum. </p><p>“My nipples,” she says testily. In her private thoughts, Michael likes to talk, but she usually doesn’t during these encounters. It feels embarrassing, <em>improper</em>, to say what she wants out loud, “suck them.”</p><p>“Good girl.” His mouth closes around the tip of her breast, distracting her from his cockiness. He sucks, yeah, but not hot and heavy like she expected, but slow, almost delicate, and it’s surprisingly effective, makes her moan, makes her nipple pucker. Then he pulls away, blows over the damp skin, and that’s good, too, bringing about another whine.</p><p>“Keep going,” she grinds out.</p><p>“I knew you’d like that,” he says and moves to her other breast, his clever mouth doing the same thing. It’s no less effective a second time around.</p><p>“Of course I would,” she says, her contrarian streak still present through the hot haze of arousal, “I specifically asked you to.”</p><p>He laughs against her breast. “Mouthy.” He glances up at her. “I can work with that.” His cheek annoys her as much as it turns her on, but when he dives back in and sucks harder, she all but wails, can’t help it. There’s liquid heat dripping down her spine, and everywhere their bodies touch her skin is on fire.</p><p>He opens her fly just enough to slide one hand into her underwear. “So fucking wet, and we’ve only just gotten started,” he says, sly, and it sends an unexpected spike of shame through Michael, making her try and press her thighs together.</p><p>“How about you let me take a look?” He can’t mean what she thinks he does.</p><p>When he pushes her off of his lap to stand in front of him, sliding his fingers into the waistband of her underwear like he’s about to shove both underwear and pants down, Michael realizes she’s right. Her whole body tenses and she averts her eyes. </p><p>His hands still. “Color?”</p><p>Before she can really think it over, Michael replies, “Green.”</p><p>His mouth curls and he yanks her clothes off, casting them aside, then takes her socks off more gently. Without warning he picks her up, and her arms instinctively wind around his neck, pressing closer as she breathes in his scent. His filthy grin makes her stomach swoop, and he quickly lowers her onto the bed, back positioned against the headboard.</p><p>“Spread for me,” he says, and she lets her legs fall open.</p><p>His gaze glides along her curves, lingering between her thighs. “Very nice.” The expression is civil, but the way he says it seems charged. “Now take your hands and spread yourself for real.” His voice brokers no argument. “I want to see how wet you are, how much you want it already.”</p><p>He strokes a hand across the bulge in his pants as he regards her, intent, focused, and a strange swirl of emotions wells up inside her: doubt and apprehension, but excitement, too. Michael decides to comply, but not without a little titillation. She puts both hands over her breasts, stroking, rubbing, letting out the sounds that surge deep inside as she splays her legs wider, gratified when he keeps stroking himself, keeps looking at her, pursing his lips like he wants to kiss her there.</p><p>Finally, Michael does what he asked, using her fingers to spread herself open, pulling her outer folds apart to let him have a look; the air of the room cool against her heated flesh.</p><p>His pants come off in an instant, and he sits down at her feet. “Beautiful,” he says, leaning into the space between her legs. “Everything about you is beautiful.” There’s a disarming sincerity in his voice, and it’s completely incongruous, making something like bashfulness rise in her, starting to heat up her face. Before it becomes too much, he breaks eye contact.</p><p>“Just one taste,” he murmurs, bending forward to lick a leisurely stripe from her entrance up to her clit with the flat of his tongue. When she shivers, he pulls away.</p><p>“You’re wet enough I could take you right now,” he growls. “Push right in and fuck you.”</p><p>Michael pulls up her knees to make room for him, want spiking through her. “Do it,” she challenges him through clenched teeth.</p><p>A dark smile. “Not yet.” He makes her close her legs with a firm touch. “You’ve got to work for it first.”</p><p>It takes a lot of self-possession not to yelp. That’s what she asked for, a voice in her head whispers, that’s what <em>begging to get fucked</em> entails. Part of Michael wants to call this off and walk away, but she’s gone too far to fight the fierce throb in her belly. Doesn’t mean she’ll submit without a fight. That’s part of the game, too.</p><p>“Work for it, huh?” she asks, forcing a skeptical look onto her face. “From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like you have too much room to make me wait.” She gestures at his groin where a wet spot has formed on his underwear.</p><p>He seems surprised by her comeback, but irritatingly amused, too, not bothering to suppress a laugh.</p><p>“Oh,” his tone exudes mock innocence, “you misunderstand.” He reaches out to caress the side of her face. “First, you’re going to suck me off.” His voice is low, confident, and when his thumb rubs across her bottom lip, Michael barely keeps from catching it with her teeth. “Then, I’ll drive you crazy with my hands and my mouth.” She feels herself clench, barely keeping her chest from heaving. “And only when I’m hard again and have you begging to get fucked, that’s when you’re gonna get my cock. If you’re lucky.”</p><p>She’d never admit that talk like that turns her on when she’s lying awake at night, wouldn’t have tolerated it from any of her previous partners, but he’s saying these things because she told him to, because she <em>wants </em>him to, and that changes their significance, their purpose. </p><p>Her next words come out defiant either way. “And you think I’m going to go down on my knees for you just like that?” He should put in the work, too, prove he’s capable of dealing with pushback.</p><p>“Oh, you will.” His gaze locks with hers as his hand slides across her leg, fingers fluttering against the inside of her thigh. “Because you want to, because bringing it up made your breath hitch, made you lick your lips.”</p><p>She swallows thickly, unable to break away from his gaze.</p><p>“And because I just know your mouth would look even prettier wrapped around my cock.”</p><p>Michael presses her lips together. Saying filthy things with a smile, wrapping them up in compliments, his eyes on her like they truly see her – even as he gives her what she asked for, he keeps surprising her.</p><p>“Besides,” his hold on her flesh tightens, “if you play nice, you don’t have to be on your knees.”</p><p>Her eyes widen, intrigued. It’s such a tried and true standby, she defaulted to the – inconveniently hot – picture of herself crouched between his legs.</p><p>He gets to his feet. “Thought that might catch your interest.” His voice is casual, flirtatious.</p><p>As he pulls off his remaining clothes, Michael makes sure to keep looking, drink him in. He’s a beautiful man, long and lean and so hard for her it makes her mouth water.</p><p>“Such a needy little thing.” Approval and reprimand are mingling in his voice. “Just getting to see my cock makes you even hornier.” He sits down beside her. “Don’t deny it. I can see how you rub your legs together just to get some friction.”</p><p>His own legs are splayed, dick straining towards his stomach.</p><p>“If you’re not helping me out,” she hears herself say, low and shameless, “I have no choice but to pick up the slack.”</p><p>He tilts his head, like he’s pondering his options. “You need to learn how to behave.” The word choice surprises Michael, sends a low-key thrill through her. “You need to earn this, not just by giving me pleasure, but by delaying yours.”</p><p>“You talk a big game.” She can’t help taunting him. It’s in her nature. “Better be sure you can back it up.”</p><p>“Oh, I can,” he says with certainty, not the slightest waver in his voice. “And for a cocky little thing like you, I’m going to take it extra slow.” His hand motions towards the expanse of the bed. “Lie down.”</p><p>“You’re going to ride my face?” she asks, combative, even as the thought riles her up, makes her pulse flutter, as she hurries to do like he said.</p><p>“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He pointedly raises his eyebrows. “Oh yeah, you would.” A smirk curves his pretty mouth. “I think you’d like that a little too much.”</p><p>He moves, fast and graceful, and lies down next to her. “Change of plans,” he declares as he turns her onto her side with deft hands. “We’re going to make out.”</p><p>Michael throws him a skeptical look. “I thought we’d moved past that.”</p><p>“Don’t pretend like you didn’t love it,” he says and leans in, his hand sliding into her hair, tugging her close for a soft kiss. When she tries to deepen it, his grip around her head tightens, forcing her to keep it light.</p><p>“Greedy and eager.” The roughness in his voice is delicious. “Such a go-getter, I bet. Should be good for you to be put in your place.”</p><p>“My place?” The incredulity in her voice doesn’t seem to faze him.</p><p>“On this bed,” he’s so close she can feel his breath on her lips, “with your ass pushed out, begging for me to fuck you. That’s the place.”</p><p>It should be too much, confident to the point of ridiculousness, but she wanted this, <em>asked</em> for this, and now he’s giving it to her. An undeniable rush surges through her, paired with a need to egg him on. “What makes you so sure our positions won’t be reversed after I get my hands all over you?” She wets her lips. “My mouth, too.”</p><p>“I have no illusions that this is going to be easy.” His assessment surprises her. “You’re hot and you’re gorgeous, and you’re so damn ready to get fucked.” Just hearing him say it out loud like that makes the heat in her stomach coil tighter. “But trust me, self control happens to be my strong suit.” </p><p>He deliberately squares his shoulders, and his whole energy changes, the tone of his voice turning decisive, almost business-like. “And after all this insolence,” another uncannily perfect word choice, calling forth old memories, making her head spin, “you won’t get to suck me off at all. Now either you shut your smart mouth, and I’ll still give you a chance to make me come, or you keep talking back, and I’ll finish myself off.” He gives himself a long, languorous stroke. “And I won’t even let you taste it.”</p><p>Again, it should be too much, preposterous, but Michael’s all but dripping at this point, that’s how turned on she is by the push-pull of praise and censure, charm and dominance. In her fantasies, these things played out differently, and the unpredictability only increases the thrill of it, making her desperate to keep going.</p><p>“Please.” The word falls from her lips without thought. She doesn’t even know what exactly she’s referring to, but when he smiles in approval, it feels amazing.</p><p>He reaches out to pet her. “Good girl.” His voice is congenial. “Now come here, sit next to me.” She scrambles to join him. “Let’s start this over.” He places a soft kiss on her lips. </p><p>This time she manages to rein in her natural impatience, reciprocating carefully, gently, and when his fingers start exploring, leaving a trail of low-burning fires in their wake, her restraint pays off.</p><p>“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs as he nibbles along her neck, lips hot against the too-loud beat of her heart.</p><p>Her hands grasp the mattress in an effort to stay still as he kisses further down. She clenches and clenches again, pretty sure her pussy is starting to spill over, and he isn’t even back at her nipples yet.</p><p>And then his mouth closes around one and his tongue swirls, his hands heavy on her hips, thumbs pressing against her hip bones. She can’t help it, can’t keep from sliding her hands into his hair to pull him closer. “Fuck yes,” she moans, rubbing her damp thighs together for friction, head light with how turned on she is.</p><p>Michael tries to push his head further down, to her pussy, where she really wants him, where he will make her feel so good, she knows, and at first, he complies, wet slide of his lips across her stomach feeding the anticipation building in her core. </p><p>After a few moments, he pulls away, shakes his head as if to clear it, and honest-to-goodness clicks his tongue at her.</p><p>“And here you were doing so well.” There’s a startling amount of control in his voice. “Have those impulses gotten the better of you again?” He sounds like an instructor who’s disappointed by his student, but not really surprised. “Do I need to enforce discipline here?”</p><p>“No.” The word rushes out and when she adds, “I’ll be good,” of her own volition, Michael can scarcely believe it.</p><p>“I’m not sure I can trust you,” he says with a smirk, pretending to move away only to bend over and trail butterfly kisses across her face, finally catching her mouth with his, another kiss that’s too tender yet intense, too many possibilities burning beneath the surface.</p><p>Tension gathers in every part of her, every muscle and sinew, as she tries to keep still, keep her urges from dictating the movements of her body, even as featherlight touches start playing along her arms and her waist. She wants to close her eyes, throw back her head and bare her throat, but she resists. She can’t allow herself to lose control again, sink deeper into her own desire. Damn, he’s nowhere near her pussy, isn’t even playing with her breasts, and still has her close to whining, begging for more.</p><p>“I can feel how hard you’re trying.” There’s a kind of affable condescension in his tone that irritates her as much as it turns her on. How can he, a mere human, remain so composed when he almost has her shaking?</p><p>He looks up from her breastbone, hand playing idly beneath her ribs when all she wants is for it to slide down, dip between her legs. “So much strain and effort.” His words ghost against her breast, and it takes real willpower not to thrust her chest out, offering herself up to him. “I appreciate it. Must not be easy for a woman as willful as you.”</p><p>She doesn’t think he expects a response, but the slight quirk of his eyebrow tells her she’s wrong. Her own eagerness to read him right, anticipate his wishes, annoys her, maybe more because of how much it arouses her. “No, it’s not,” she bites out.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, everyone! I made a banner for this fic and am quite happy with how it turned out. Hope you like it, too.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>“You’re used to getting what you want.” He nods thoughtfully, his hair brushing against her shoulder. “Used to being in charge.” The air of authority she’s learned to project is a point of pride for Michael, but now, when he has her trembling for his touch, the words feel like mockery.</p><p>He does that head tilt again, the one telling her to reply if she wants him to continue. Michael just wants these questions to be over, make it to the part where they get each other off. “Yes,” she hisses as she tries to stay still.</p><p>With a quick grin, he presses a kiss below her collarbone. “Of course you are.” Why is he still talking when he should be kissing her, biting her, fucking her? When he should be making her feel good. “Who could resist someone so confident?” He moves lower, murmurs into her skin. “So beautiful.” His tongue draws a wet circle around her nipple, and she barely keeps from throwing her head back.</p><p>“Everyone in that bar wanted to fuck you,” he purrs, words ghosting over her. His next kiss, placed on the underside of her breast, turns into a suck. “Would have paid good money for the privilege.”</p><p><em>How dare he?</em> Irritation flares up low in her belly.<em> She would never so much as think-</em></p><p>Except she has. Late at night, her eyes squeezed shut in shame. With her fist in her mouth and her hand between her legs. Michael doesn’t mean to, but she moans. Ultimately, her shame only feeds her arousal.</p><p>He nuzzles against her sternum, so close he must feel the erratic beat of her heart, must taste the sweat on her skin. “And you chose me. Not just to fuck you, no, but to,” the words come out with dark deliberation, “use you at my leisure.” She bites her lip to suppress a whimper. No one has ever talked to her like this, in this degrading, delicious way.</p><p>“If only they could see you now.” An image flashes through her mind, brief but sharp: a gallery of shadowy strangers, watching, listening. Her breath grows shallow, and his fingernails raking lightly across her stomach only intensify her awareness, make her hairs stand on end. “Naked and turned on and,” there’s a sly quirk to the side of his mouth, making anticipation churn deep down, “ready to be treated like the whore you are.”</p><p>The last words cut to her core, make her pulse pound in her pussy like a drum. Michael’s thoughts swirl. Her mouth dries up. <em>No one talks to her like that.</em> It shouldn’t turn her on like it does. Her hands on the sheets curl into fists and she shoots him a blazing look.</p><p>To her surprise, he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t apologize, his voice calm when he asks, “Color?”</p><p>She sucks in air. <em>Right. </em>It’s in her power to end this game. Get him to stop calling her filthy things, making her do filthy deeds.</p><p>“Green,” she grinds out.</p><p>His smile is too knowing, and any other time, it would annoy her no end, but tonight, when he has her hunger for his every word, every touch, it’s mesmerizing.</p><p>Wet lips close around her nipple and firm hands explore her body, sliding along her back, squeezing her breasts and thighs as his tongue comes into play. His fucking mouth is going to kill her, but all she wants is for him to keep going. It takes a remarkable amount of willpower not to try and take control, her fingers digging into the mattress with how much she wants to touch him. When his palm slides between her thighs, a natural fit over her aching pussy, she starts rolling her hips, gently, not too much, afraid he might stop otherwise.</p><p>“Please,” she whimpers, barely recognizing her own voice. He doesn’t respond, keeps suckling and caressing like he didn’t even hear her. Sweat gathers at her hairline, at the nape of her neck, although she’s barely moving. Thoughts bolt through her head like lightning, visions of herself begging and beyond control. She’s not quite there yet.</p><p>When he sucks harder, his breath and his spit and the fleshy heat of his mouth conspiring to drive her crazy, Michael groans, loud and lewd, grinds her ass against the sheets, almost sure she can feel them turning damp where her juice is spilling over.</p><p>He pulls away, and she reaches out before she can stop herself.</p><p>“Nuh-uh.” He holds onto her hand. “I thought I could trust you.” His eyes examine her body, leaving a feverish trail of sensations in their wake. “Looks like you still have trouble reigning in those impulses.” She should stay still, shouldn’t agitate him further, but the condescension in his tone makes her temper flare. “If you’re not going to make me come, it’s on me to do something about it."</p><p>His gaze turns dark. “So that’s what this is.” He quickly gets up and strides over to the table. Michael can’t help licking her lips as she watches him, admiring the V of his back, how it tapers down into appealingly narrow hips and a fine ass. Without so much as a spared glance, he picks up the candles that make up the center piece one by one, weighing them in his hand, letting his fingers skim their length.</p><p>
    <em>What is he thinking? What is he doing?</em>
  </p><p>Michael’s mind swirls with possibilities. Pleasure or punishment? Both options excite her.</p><p>“Stay on the bed, but get on your knees.” His tone is deceptive, almost conversational, and it makes her hackles rise, annoyed with her own body for how keen it seems to follow his command.</p><p>“You want me to suck on one of those?” she taunts, refusing to move, jerking her chin at the long, thick candle in his palm, drawing her eyes to his long, deft fingers.</p><p>“That’s not a bad idea.” His lips purse like he’s indulging her. <em>Cocky fucker. </em>“But no.”</p><p>He flicks his wrist. “On your knees. Now.”</p><p>This time she complies without thought, clambering to her knees on top of the sheets, the assertiveness in his voice tapping into something inside her, the part that wants to follow orders, do as she’s told.</p><p>“Good girl.”</p><p>Those two words again. They should feel demeaning, not make her arch her back like a cat. It’s one of the things Michael works so hard to hide: her need for praise. How much it means to be commended, valued, appreciated. It’s a trait she doesn’t like to examine, and she’s glad to lose that train of thought when he returns to the bed, giving her a great view of his naked body in motion, of his tan chest and pretty cock, still undeniably hard for her. He puts the candle on the nightstand and steps in, close enough for her to smell his pre-come, but before she can do anything about it, he grips her jaw and makes her look up at him.</p><p>“Since you cannot be trusted to wait for permission.” He’s composed, but with a hint of steel in his voice that goes directly to her core. “I’m going to do something about all that rubbing you’ve been doing.” Slowly, he runs his hand from her shoulder down to the curve of her ass, insinuating it between her thighs.</p><p>She can still smell him, can feel the heat of his body, and the contrast between his words and actions is promising, makes her bold. “Like what?” She almost manages a scornful tone, even as she wiggles shamelessly against his fingers, knowing he must feel the dampness on her thighs, hoping it makes him more aware of his own arousal.</p><p>“Spread,” he says, deliberate. She does.</p><p>Quietly, he moves outside her field of vision. It only winds her tighter, the fact that she can’t see him amplifying how she perceives his proximity, his touch, the roughness in his voice.</p><p>Taking his time, he strokes along her folds, and she pushes into his hand, moaning.</p><p>“So ready and juicy,” he growls. “Part of me wants to fuck you right now, give it to you till you scream.” His fingers rub at her opening, like he’s about to press in, give her a preview.</p><p>She cranes her neck to look over her shoulder, satisfied with the raw need she finds on his face. “Then do it, come on, do it,” she encourages, grinding against him, indecent and inviting.</p><p>“I want to.” His chest expands with a heavy breath and he takes a step closer. Michael feels a grin curve her lips. Of course he’d crack. She could see it in his eyes back in that alley, how much he wanted her. Could feel it when she rode his thigh after only minutes of making out, how ready he was to fuck her. Only a matter of time before she’d win this game.</p><p>He grabs onto her hips, making her gasp in anticipation, her whole body humming with it.</p><p>Suddenly, his hold ceases. Instead he pushes her thighs further apart, rough and quick, and she lets out a startled sound.</p><p>“But when I play a game,” he says with renewed resolve, “I play to win.”</p><p>She’s spread so wide now, her pussy exposed to the air of the room, still looking at him over her shoulder. The position’s uncomfortable, which somehow makes it better, makes her pulse pound in her ears.</p><p>When he picks up the candle, she inhales sharply. Michael usually doesn’t let people fuck her with objects, prefers tongues and cocks and hands. In this moment, however, the idea holds an unexpected appeal: him guiding the candle inside of her, getting it warm and wet, maybe making her suck her own juices off once he’s done.</p><p>Embarrassment cuts through her at her own debased thoughts, but it only adds to her desire. Humans are animals when it comes to sex, uncivilized, and right now, she’s a bitch in heat. It’s completely irrational; a primal, urgent need. Like a Vulcan during blood fever, Michael can’t help thinking. Atavism. Primitive drives from another time.</p><p>“Fuck, you have such an amazing ass.” His hand grazes along her spine and further. “And your thighs, so strong and thick.” She can't see what he does, but when she feels round pressure points on the insides of both thighs, Michael realizes that he positioned the candle horizontally, using it as a tool to hold her open. It must look obscene, absurd, like the rod of a free weight between her legs. No one has ever dared treat her like this before.</p><p>He licks his lips, and Michael eagerly tracks the movement. “I know it'll feel amazing once you’re allowed to wrap your legs around me. When I fuck you so hard you’ll feel it tomorrow, will think of me every time you move.” No one has ever talked to her like this either.</p><p>“Even your asshole is pretty,” he says and reaches out to stroke it with the pad of this thumb. Another first, another thing she didn’t think she’d be into. “If you weren’t so insolent, I might eat it, show you how good that can be.” A shudder runs through her, and she bites the inside of her cheek. How can he be so sure she hasn’t done this before? How can he read her so well? “But right now, I have to put you in your place. Just like I promised.”</p><p>He moves to stand in front of her. “The rules.” His voice is firm, matter-of-fact. “You’re going to worship my cock. Really go for it, give it all you’ve got till I come on your face.”</p><p>Michael has to close her eyes for one second. She can’t even begin to guess what her facial expression must look like.</p><p>Something like doubt crosses his features and his gaze finds hers. “Color?” he asks.</p><p>She almost wishes he hadn’t. This is demeaning, indecent, pornographic. She should feel humiliated, appalled. She certainly shouldn’t burn up with how much she wants it, keen beyond words to get her mouth on him, show him how good she can be. Checking in turns this into a deliberate choice: say <em>red</em> and end the game, say <em>yellow</em> and make him slow down.</p><p>“Green,” she spits out. “But it better be worth it.” Technically, Michael’s in no place to make demands, but when she feels put on the spot, belligerence is an ingrained response. He seems to like it, if the small laugh that escapes him is anything to go by.</p><p>“So bossy,” there’s a deceptive edge to the kindness in his smile, “even when you’re about to be my cock slut.”</p><p>The slur alone makes her salivate. She’s never heard it before, and half an hour ago, she’d have punched him for it, but the way he says it - confident yet tender, with his hand holding her chin - makes it feel like an endearment. A dirty, exhilarating kind of praise.</p><p>“Yeah.” she breathes, swaying forward, the movement making her even more aware of how wide her legs are spread, how exposed she is to the air of the room.</p><p>“Two things.” He holds up his hand, preventing her from leaning in or crouching down. “One, that candle’s gonna stay in place. No matter how fired up you are, no matter what happens, you’re going to use those beautiful thighs to hold on to it, make sure it doesn’t slip, doesn’t fall.”</p><p>The sheer nerve is grating, even more because of how it gets her worked up. “And what if I don’t?”</p><p>“I’m going to use those sheets to tie you down. And then I’m gonna stand right here and get myself off. Come all over you while you can do nothing but watch.” He winks at her. “Won’t even lick you clean after.”</p><p>She probably wouldn’t let it go that far. No matter how turned on she is, Michael’s still aware he’s a stranger. But as a fantasy it’s exciting: have him subdue her like that, be completely at his mercy.</p><p>“Seems unfair,” she says with a flirtatious pout, token resistance more than anything else.</p><p>“Why should I play fair when you don’t?”</p><p>He holds up two fingers, back to business. “Rule number two, you can use your mouth and tongue to make me come - kissing, licking, dirty talk - but you can’t suck me down.”</p><p>It takes a lot of self-discipline not to yelp. “What?” He can’t be serious.</p><p>“That’s a privilege you’ll have to earn.” His cockiness should be insufferable, but his choice of words triggers an almost Pavlovian response, makes her hang on his next words. “I’ll make you work for it, beg for it.” He leans in, licks the shell of her ear and whispers, “You <em>want me</em> to make you beg for it.” A provocation and confirmation alike. “In my book, <em>it</em> includes fucking your hot, filthy mouth.”</p><p>Michael makes a strangled noise, adrenaline spiking, every inch of her skin prickling with it. Nothing about this should rile her up as much as it does. Other men would <em>beg her</em> to suck their cocks while he has the audacity to dictate terms and restrictions. And yet she’s here, so damn eager to finally taste his cock and make him squirm.</p><p>“Rules clear?”</p><p>She wants to wipe the smugness off his face, bite it from his mouth with a bruising kiss, but she settles for - hopefully unexpected - bluntness. “Candle holding and cock licking: yes. Sucking and face fucking: no.” At this point they both know her defiance is only for show.</p><p>“Exactly,” he says mildly and positions himself in front of her.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Part of Michael wants to pounce. Finally, finally get her mouth on his cock, get him to give it up quick. She’s salivating at the thought, abdomen and thighs contracting, making the candle holding her legs apart shift.</p><p>She closes her eyes, trying to subdue the excitement and greed coursing through her. The truth is, she doesn’t just want to get this over with, she wants to impress him, make it unforgettable. Show him what she can do, even within the constraints of his arbitrary rules.</p><p>To give him a show she slowly, deliberately slides back on the bed, using her arms to push her breasts together. Her muscles tighten and sweat prickles on her forehead, at the base of her spine. </p><p>His eyes follow her closely, captivated by her precise control over her every movement, and Michael feels his undivided attention like a physical touch. He can’t look away, she knows, too absorbed in watching her to so much as use his smart mouth. </p><p>When she plants her palms onto the mattress and stretches, making sure he has a great view of the curves of her body, he sways towards her, like he can’t help himself. <em>Good.</em></p><p>She’s so close to his cock now, he could just push in and make her take it. Michael stifles a sound that’s trying to break free from her throat.</p><p>“Looks like we’re both impatient now, huh?” she asks with a small nod to his shining wet crown.</p><p>“I never said I wasn’t eager.” He grabs his cock, bending it like he’s about to nudge her lips apart, but stops just short of making contact. </p><p>It’s true. He never said he didn’t want her, just said he would give it to her slow. <em>Make her beg for it.</em> The thought makes her clench, and the position of the candle heightens her awareness of it, the small shift in her muscles more pronounced through the counterpressure.</p><p>“You want to be a good girl and taste it?” he asks when she doesn’t move, doesn’t act.</p><p>Michael bites her lower lip.<em> Yes, yes, yes,</em> she wants to say, <em>I want your taste in my mouth, get my tongue all over you. Make it so good</em>. Even as she’s thinking the words, her defiant streak rears its head, reins in her impulse to obey.</p><p>“Not yet,” she whispers and leans forward, nestling her nose against the root of his cock, against the stiff, curly hair, and breathes him in. He smells like sex. A little sweat and pre-come and something musky. It’s intoxicating, makes slow heat thrum through her, gets her even wetter; her dumb, lust-addled body unable to fathom that he won’t fuck her like she so desperately needs. </p><p>She takes a deeper breath and feels him grasp her shoulder.</p><p>“Fuck,” he murmurs, low and turned-on, and it strengthens Michael’s resolve to drag this out, peppering kisses on the underside of his belly, along the sharp cut of his hipbones, gratified when his breathing becomes labored, when she tastes the salt of fresh sweat on his skin. </p><p>It’s something like instinct that makes her press her face into the space between his legs, suck a bruise into the inside of his thigh, the act of it arousing her even more, an echo of what she wants to do to his cock, so tantalizingly close. By the way he groans, the way his hands clutch at her, he enjoys it, too.</p><p>And then she starts licking along his shaft. Not a long stripe like she usually would, but little kitten licks that make wet, sordid sounds. He moans his pleasure, and Michael smiles as she bends her head into an unnatural position to get at the underside of his cock, brushing against the soft skin of his sac before dragging the flat of her tongue upward, all the way to the top, tasting the spicy goodness of his precome for the first time, almost vibrating with the pleasure of it, the intimacy. The muscles in her neck are pulled too tight, but Michael knows what it must look like, finding confirmation in his eyes when she looks up at him. </p><p>Putting a quick, teasing kiss on the tip of his cock, she makes a show of licking his taste off of her lips. “Not bad.” </p><p>“<em>Now</em> you’re starting to take it slow?” he asks with some exasperation.</p><p>“I thought that’s what you like.” She almost manages to make it sound chirpy. </p><p>“Fair enough.”</p><p>Seeing the way his chest moves with heavy breaths, the sheen of sweat on his skin, helps Michael find a measure of control. Seems like she’s the one getting under his skin for a change. She shoots him a too-cute smile. “Sucking you down is off-limits, I know.” He closes his eyes for a moment, like her words plant a visual in his mind he has trouble ignoring. “I just need some clarification,” she puts on an innocent voice. “Can I still suck your testes, maybe the head of your cock?”</p><p>His fingers on her shoulder stiffen, dig into her skin, deliciously deep. “You little minx.” </p><p>She hasn’t heard the word before, but it sounds indecent, lewd, sends a hot spike along her spine. Taking his silence as assent, she murmurs the word, “Good,” as she leans forward and opens her mouth to take in his balls, getting them good and wet before letting go with an obscene plop to blow on them. She feels him clench, feels the small, distinct forward motion. <em>That’s right</em>, she feels an indulgent smirk tug at her mouth, <em>I know what you want.</em></p><p>Thing is, she wants it just as much. Her hardened nipples and rolling hips are proof of that.<em> Be careful, don’t let go of the candle</em>, she reminds herself. She can’t give him the upper hand by letting it slip. Otherwise, she’d lower herself down deeper, try and get some friction against her nipples, arch her back even more, daring him to touch until he won’t be able to resist, until he’ll grab her ass. Maybe touch her again like he did before, where he did before.</p><p><em>No, no, no. </em>Michael can’t let herself be distracted like this, she needs to be in full control of her thoughts and actions. He’s the one who should be squirming.</p><p>She takes the side of his cock between her lips, sucking and sliding, <em>up and down, up and down</em>, and decides to hold herself up on one forearm so she can use the other hand to play with his balls, maybe get a grip around the base of his pretty cock.</p><p>Her hand has just started touching between his legs when he intervenes. “I didn’t say you could use your hands.” He sounds stern, but strained.</p><p>She smirks up at him, “You didn’t say I couldn’t,” and teases her nail along his balls.</p><p>He exhales sharply. “That is true.” He gives a mock bow, and it’s so incongruous, almost lighthearted, that she can’t help reacting with a small smile. “Apologies.” He tilts his head. “Rule three: no hands.”</p><p>Michael pouts, and while the exaggerated expression is for show, her disappointment is real. She wants to make this so good for him, wants to hear him moan and plead, wants to know what he sounds like when he comes.</p><p>There’s a flicker in his eyes. “In fact,” he’s fully in command again, “I noticed your excellent posture and muscle control. Maybe we should kick this up another notch.”</p><p>This sounds ominous. Excitement churns in her belly. <em>What will he do?</em></p><p>With a gentle touch, he takes both her wrists, putting her hands on top of each other at the small of her back.</p><p>It’s a bit of an unstable position and he holds her shoulder to steady her. There’s a hungry flash in his eyes as they sweep over her, and he grabs her by the jaw to ask, “Color?”</p><p>She doesn’t give herself time to think. “Green.”</p><p>His thumb rubs across her chin. “Such a good girl after all.”</p><p>He guides her into a pose that gives her access to his cock and him an excellent, scandalous view. It’s uncomfortable, puts a mild strain on her arms and stomach in addition to the one already burning slow in her thighs. She won’t be able to draw it out much, not in this position. Right now, it doesn’t seem so bad, but Michael knows from the stress positions in Suus Mahna, the ones she had to hold ten minutes at a time as punishment when her teacher deemed her movements too imprecise, that her sense of discomfort will morph into real pain soon enough.</p><p>Making her look up at him, he adds, “And so pretty, too.” Her expression must be too open, too eager, but she can’t help it. He gives her a nod of encouragement as his hands drop away. “Now make me come.”</p><p>She sucks and licks and swirls her tongue, the act of giving him pleasure her solitary point of focus, drowning out the tension building in her muscles, drowning out the shame at how she must look, pussy spread open, ass pushed out, her mouth wet and greedy for a stranger’s cock.</p><p>“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he all put purrs. “Look so cute with your mouth all over me.” There’s a satisfied hum in his voice as he praises her, and it spurs her on. She wants, needs to make him come.</p><p>“Damn, look how much spit there is.” He laughs, dark and sharp. “You’re making me sloppy like your cunt.”</p><p>Michael clenches, hard, feels the ripples shudder through her. It’s so presumptuous, so cocky, but his confidence only turns her on more, her climax ridiculously, painfully close yet out of reach. She slurps and gasps, mind hazy, ravenous for his taste. If he’d just touch her, rub her clit for a few seconds, she knows she’d break the wave, hard.</p><p>They must look shameless, pornographic, and she struggles against the impulse to activate the mirror and look at them together, revel in her own debasement. Instead she seals her lips around the crown of his cock, smooth and salty with pre-come. She loves the heat and the taste, loves how it triggers another rush of wetness between her legs, how he whispers dirty words in an increasingly ragged voice.</p><p>Soon, he’s rocking into her mouth and his hands slide around the base of her skull, holding her. She has a feeling it’s a precaution, that he’s trying to keep her at a distance even though what he really wants is to thrust into her. </p><p>Didn’t he say she should worship his cock, praise him? Judging from the spark in his eyes whenever she’s mouthing off, talking is a good way to get to him, she should take advantage of that. Something inside her resists, humiliated by the mere idea.</p><p>Above her, he makes a delicious, filthy noise that curls her toes, prompts her to suck harder.</p><p>Michael’s done with half-baked denial. She wants this. The teasing, the taunting, the begging, and everything else she might never dare do again. Her cards are already on the table. She won’t let useless inhibitions get in the way. Tonight, she's lustful, insatiable, and she won’t hold back. This is her chance to own these urges, make them come true with a gorgeous man giving her exactly what she needs.</p><p>The decision settles inside of her, fills her with purpose, and she pulls off of him.</p><p>“Come on,” she coos, “let me have your cock.” It’s thrilling to say it out loud. Looking up at him through her lashes, she makes her expression as sweet as she can under the circumstances, fighting the impulse to bite her tongue, to stop herself from saying filthy things. “It’s so hot and pretty and it tastes so good.” She’s telling the truth, already misses its warmth beneath her lips. She kisses the very tip, tongue dipping into the slit. “I know you want to fuck my mouth with it.” Michael suppresses a shiver of want. “I know you want to shove it down my throat, make me choke on it.” She rubs her cheek along the shaft. His physique is all tension, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together, his fingers around her head almost too tight, and she knows it’s working, that he’s struggling for control.</p><p>“You think you can take it?” There’s an indefinable quality to his voice.</p><p>She can’t help a confident grin spreading across her face, not when she’s sure it’ll only turn him on more. “Balls deep.”</p><p>“Such a slut for my cock, aren’t you?” His certainty makes her throat contract. “Greedy for it, even when you’re trying to play it cool.”</p><p>Michael pushes her shoulder blades back in an attempt to shift some of the tension in her body, give herself another minute or two before it turns into real pain. She looks at his groin with deliberation. “I’m not the one who’s dripping pre-come right now.”</p><p>He lets out a surprised laugh, and for a moment, he looks open, guileless. “You’re really something,” he says, shaking his head, then shaking out his shoulders. “But I don’t even have to check to know how sloppy wet you are right now,” he says with renewed composure. “A good little whore who’s begging to get her mouth fucked when what she really wants is to have her pussy rawed hard and deep.”</p><p>“Do it,” she taunts, her cheeks burning, aflame, “fuck me. Any position, any way, any hole.” The words fall from her mouth  eagerly. “I don’t even care, just make me come. Give it to me, fill me up.” Michael has never talked like that, even if she’s said all this and more in dreams and fantasies, and it’s electrifying. Freeing.</p><p>He grunts, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” and his hands in her hair flex, massage her scalp. “You’re even better, even filthier than I had hoped.” His praise makes her bend forward, drawn to him.</p><p>“I’ll give you what you asked for,” he says darkly. “You’ll get my cock, but you won’t get my come.”</p><p>She makes a disgruntled little noise, even as her mouth waters. When he gives her a warning look, she nods her acquiescence. “I’ll push in balls deep, but then, it’s up to you. I’ll keep still, and when you’ve done your job, I’m gonna pull out and paint your pretty face with my come.”</p><p>The things he says, the way he says them - it’s like he’s tapped into Michael’s most secret fantasies. She nods impatiently, her tongue pushing up against her palate where she knows he’s about to fill her up.</p><p>“One more thing,” he says in a kinder tone. “Make a fist with one hand.” His finger points at the small of her back.</p><p>She rolls her eyes but complies.</p><p>“As long as you make that fist, I’ll read it as green,” he explains. “If you open your hand or let it fall to your side, I’ll stop.” He grabs her face roughly, but the way he swipes his thumb across her lower lip feels almost tender. “Might be hard to talk with your mouth stuffed full.” His grip changes and he pulls her jaw down, smirking. “Now open up, sweetheart.”</p><p>She gives him a dark look, protestation at the endearment more than anything else, and opens her mouth wide, careful to cover her teeth.</p><p>When he pushes in, it’s swift, makes her gag a little in the back of her throat, more saliva bubbling up. Michael forces herself to suck against the reflex, satisfied when she hears him groan, when he pushes the rest of the way in, wiry hair tickling, balls warm against her chin.</p><p>“So pretty with your mouth full of cock,” he glances down at her. “You look like you were made for this.”</p><p>She nods and sucks and starts moving. Her arms hurt, her legs hurt, all her muscles are pulled too tight, her pussy throbbing with wet heat. She’s uncomfortable, tight, sore, but she’s so turned on. She wants to make him lose it, wants him to come in her mouth and suck it all down.</p><p>Their eyes lock and she can see how aroused he is, too, how pleased, how close. There’s quivers rising in her legs and stomach, but Michael knows she can hold on long enough to get him off. So she sucks but keeps him deep. Her eyes burn and her throat flutters and there’s too much spit, her body telling her this is too much, everything’s too much. She doesn’t care. Just wants to make him come, make him come hard enough that he’ll praise her again, that he’ll need to make her come, too. With his deft hands and his amazing mouth and, later, with this beautiful cock she’s about to suck dry.</p><p>She sucks harder, feeling a few tears spill from the corners of her eyes, careful to leave her hand in a fist. Nevertheless, he gasps, “Fuck. You don’t have to. This is, damn, this is more than- Are you sure it’s okay?”</p><p>She nods brusquely, her mouth bobbing on his cock, and grunts the word “Yes,” around him.</p><p>His eyes flicker to the small of her back, another check-in, and she repeats her garbled “Yes,” around him.</p><p>The timbre of his voice changes. “Oh, I get it.” He yanks at the hairs behind her ear. “You love this. You love being stuffed so full of cock you can barely breathe.”</p><p>Michael keeps sucking him down as she feels him grow even harder against the roof of her mouth, so close to coming she can feel it. “Spit running down your chin, tears down your cheeks, and all you want is more, you perfect, beautiful slut.”</p><p>A red-hot shudder runs through her, through her straining muscles and tendons, a different kind of pain, almost enough to dislodge the candle between her legs, but she manages to hold on even as she keeps her lips tight around him. </p><p>“You want my come in your mouth, too, right. You want it so bad?” He slurs the words, clearly close, his hips rocking again.</p><p>“Yes,” she moans around him, still garbled, feeling saliva drip down her chin, run down her throat.</p><p>“Want me to ram my cock in deep?”</p><p>She agrees, enthusiastic, almost out of her mind. Her muscles trembling, her body ebbing and flowing in primal rhythms, pain and pleasure spinning through her like a storm. “Please,” she keens around him, and that seems to do it.</p><p>His hands on her neck tighten and he pulls back a little before thrusting in deep, making her gag for real, prompting a rush of sticky liquid in the back of her mouth. “I’m -- Fuck, you’re making me come.”</p><p>After a moment, he tries to withdraw, pull away, but she won’t let him, sucking, slurping, drinking him down until she feels him start to soften. Without this single point of focus, this one thing for her mind and her mouth to narrow in on, it’s too much, and Michael’s head falls onto the mattress, her arms hanging limply to her sides. Shocks are running through her system. Spit on her face and her throat, wetness between her legs and on her thighs, and so much sweat. Sweat everywhere, so much she can smell it. She’s hot and cold and shaking and hurting, her pussy throbbing with pure need. She’s <em>so so</em> close to orgasm with no way to get release.</p><p>He kneels down beside her, his words warm against her ear. “Color?” he asks, hand stroking along her arm.</p><p>She swallows and it tastes of come. Michael has to smile. She made him come, she got everything.</p><p>“Green,” she mumbles into the mattress, turning her head, so he can hear her better. “I want to keep going.” It comes out in a rough whine, but she keeps babbling on. “I’m so close, and I want to come so bad, but you can’t let me.” It’s suddenly imperative that he gets this, that he understands how much further she wants to go. “I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t pull off like you wanted.” She shakes her head and it drags against the damp sheets. “You can’t let me yet. I need to behave before you let me.”</p><p>“I won’t,” he assures her and gets up, maneuvering her onto her side, placing a pillow beneath her head. His hands run up and down her frame, but right now it’s not sexual, not really, more like he’s making sure everything’s okay. “I know you were trying to behave.” He smiles at her warmly. “You were doing so well.”</p><p>A small tremor runs through her overexerted muscles, clashing with the want still pulsing through her.</p><p>His palm runs over her hip, along her thigh, and his voice stays calm, placid. “See, you even managed to hold on to this.” He removes the candle from between her legs. “I didn’t think you could, but you did it.” He kisses the places where the candle has left indents on her skin, soothes them with his tongue, and his expression signals approval when he looks up at her. “You did it.”</p><p>He runs his hand down to her ankle and all the way up to her neck. “And that was hard, wasn’t it?” He sounds attentive, but with an edge.</p><p>“But I shouldn’t have swallowed,” Michael insists, and it makes him smile, amused.</p><p>“No, you shouldn’t have.” His tone is warm, thoughtful, and he strokes the side of her face with his knuckles. “You got a little greedy.”</p><p>She concedes her failure.</p><p>“I understand,” he says quietly. “It’s hard. It’s hard when you’re so close, when you’re out of your mind with how much you want it.”</p><p>“Yes,” she whispers.</p><p>He holds up the candle and she can see it gleaming, the sheen of her own juice catching the light. His gaze holds hers as he smells it, breathes in deep, and then licks it, closes his eyes like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, moans as he wraps his lips around it.</p><p>Her muscles are sore and there’s some twitching in her legs still, but it’s so hot to see him like this that her hips start drawing tiny circles, that her thighs rub together a little.</p><p>He puts down the candle, lays down by her side and puts his hand between her thighs. “Now, now,” he drawls. “Not yet.”</p><p>“But I still need to come,” Michael says, and her mind is spinning. She wants to and doesn’t, hoping that he knows what she means, that he’ll keep this going, even when she begs him to stop.</p><p>He wants her - he just came in her mouth to prove it - but he’s deferring. It’s freeing to chafe against these boundaries when she knows they’ll be reinforced. Usually, her own nature gets in the way, but tonight, she gets to revel in her own urges. Be needy and slutty and mouthy and ultimately, as long as she remembers her colors, he won’t budge. At least not by much, she thinks with a small jolt of satisfaction. He did budge a little, let her suck him down although he said he wouldn’t.</p><p>“I know.” He cradles her against his chest, his palm over her pussy like a safeguard. “I’ll take care of you like you need. I’ll get you so close and make you beg again,” he murmurs. “But if it gets too much, if you need to come more than you need to beg for it, just say <em>red</em> and I’ll make you. It’ll be so good, I promise.” He kisses her temple.</p><p>When he rises from the bed, Michael gives him a weak smile, something like fucked out although she still hasn’t technically climaxed. </p><p>“Keep it up.” She swallows. “Keep making me work for it.” The words come out defiant, and he doesn’t fully suppress a smile in response.</p><p>There’s complete confidence in his voice when he says, “Oh, I will.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“First things first,” he says, crouching down to retrieve something from the fridge next to the bed. “Hydration.”</p><p>He holds up a bottle of water and sits down next to Michael. She’s still lying down, so he’s supporting her head as he carefully puts the bottle to her mouth. It’s cold against her lips, making her realize she’s parched. A small sip to start, not nearly enough, but when he doesn’t take the bottle away, she starts drinking in thirsty swallows. The water’s refreshing, like drinking from a deep well after an arduous hike across the Fire Plains.</p><p>“Good?” he asks, and she nods faintly enough she doesn’t have to stop drinking. Some water spills from her mouth, and he bends forward to suck it from her skin with warm lips. Nosing under her jaw, he tips the bottle until more water escapes, lets it dribble down her chin and into his mouth, a weirdly suggestive thing.</p><p>Once the bottle is empty, his lips find hers. He’s such a good kisser, and she’s melting into him as they make out slow and wet.</p><p>To Michael’s chagrin, he pulls back. “I think I need a little more,” he says, a glint in his eye.</p><p>This time, he doesn’t take the cap off, rolling the condensation-damp bottle across her breast instead. Her nipple puckers instantly, and she lets out a high sound. She didn’t expect this. He always finds small things she doesn’t expect, keeping her slightly off-kilter, off her game; an echo of the continuous anxiety she used to feel on Vulcan, when her blood rushed fast and hot in her ears every time she had to perform a task or answer a question, always afraid to be judged and found wanting.</p><p>Seems like small doses of uncertainty, unpredictability, still get her blood pumping.</p><p>“How about this?” he asks when he opens the bottle, spilling a bit of cool water onto her breast, sucking it up with his soft, hot mouth. She makes another sound, and he smiles into her skin before doing the same thing on the other side. Soon, water trickles down the middle of her stomach, into her belly button, where he laps it up ever-so-slowly, making her quiver beneath his lips.</p><p>There’s still plenty of water in the bottle when he nudges her legs apart and situates himself between them.</p><p>“Oh,” he says with mild disapproval, “you made such a mess.” Michael clenches at his words, and although it’s a subtle thing, she’s sure he notices.</p><p>His fingers rub along her hip bone, and he leans in so close she can feel his breath across her wet folds. “You’re still radiating heat,” he presses a quick kiss against her, and it’s embarrassing how even that brief moment of contact makes her shudder. “I should help you cool off.”</p><p>He positions his mouth at her opening and lets the water flow over her heated flesh. She yelps. Somehow, he manages to catch it all and keeps going. It feels incredibly, improbably intimate, him using water to clean her up, his tongue pushing cool liquid into her every crevice, into her opening, beneath the hood of her clit, and when he moves to the insides of her thighs, his mouth wide, sucking at her skin, Michael whines in frustration, wants him back where he was.</p><p>He shushes her softly. “Now, now,” he says, “we have to get you cleaned up properly for what’s next,” sending a jolt of anticipation through her. </p><p>As he stretches out beside her, they share the last mouthfuls of water.</p><p>“Are you okay?” he asks, and Michael realizes it’s about the strain in her muscles. She also realizes that the interlude did her some good. Without a hypo, she’ll probably be sore come morning, but right now, she’s feeling fine.</p><p>“Yeah,” she replies and squeezes his hand.</p><p>“Lie on your stomach,” he says conversationally as he gets up. “I need something from the replicator.”</p><p>Michael instantly does as she’s told. Somehow, it’s harder to argue when he phrases his instructions kindly. “What are you up to?” she asks, turning so she can look over her shoulder.</p><p>“Arms next to your body, face on your pillow, eyes closed.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but she knows it’s a command.</p><p>“Is this really necessary?” she asks, even as she lets her head fall forward and closes her eyes.</p><p>“Indulge me.” The replicator beeps repeatedly, so he must have activated manual input. Excitement prickles down her back.</p><p>“Why the secrecy?” Michael’s tempted to sneak a look, but her head remains where it is.</p><p>“To teach you patience, dear.” There’s a smile in his voice as well as a taunt, and the fact that she can’t see him, that she doesn’t know what he’s replicating, makes it more ominous, promising.</p><p>Footsteps fall and the sheets move beneath her as the mattress dips. “Can I look now?”</p><p>“Not yet.” Again, that deceptively soft tone.</p><p>She can’t readily identify the noises that come next, and before she’s formed a hypothesis, something smooth and cool tickles at the base of her spine. Michael gasps, her stomach pressing down into the mattress. His hand settles at the small of her back, fingers sliding through the liquid he drizzled onto her skin, warming it up.</p><p>“Oil,” she deduces, trying to keep her voice even.</p><p>He doesn’t reply but pours more of it onto the nape of her neck, lets it trickle down between her shoulder blades, cool sensation making her hairs stand on end. Setting the container aside, he uses both palms to rub in the oil with an outward motion, a pleasant glide of strong hands heating it up quickly, pushing along the taut lines of her muscles until they relax.</p><p>Soon, he gets more oil, massages it into her arms with long, firm strokes. She wants to hear him talk, wants to see him work, but this is nice, too. Him slicking up her skin, the oil loosening her muscles, making them pliable. It feels almost like another game, his silence. Like she'll lose if she speaks first.</p><p>His hands find their way between her arms and ribcage, slipping and sliding along the side of her breasts, everything synchronous, in parallel, and her breath hitches. She wants him to push his palms under her body, massage her breasts with deft fingers, but she isn’t desperate enough to ask, no yet, unwilling to break the silence, even as her toes curl and her hips push forward, her building arousal trying to find a physical outlet.</p><p>He chuckles knowingly but still doesn’t talk. Michael’s sure he means to goad her into saying something, but she’s also pretty sure this turns him on, too, feeling the expanse of her naked body, seeing her skin gleam, muscles moving beneath his touch.</p><p>Eventually, his hands drift lower, across her hips, resting there for a moment before he starts drawing circles over the cheeks of her ass, slippery and warm. When his thumbs meet in the middle, he steadies his palms, moving only his thumbs, letting them run up and down the crease, slowly adding strength, pressure, prompting her to push into his touch, eager for more. It’s new, to be worked over like this, unseen hands all over her body, and the novelty only adds to her arousal, to the excitement rushing through her when he coaxes her legs apart without saying a word. He massages the inside of her thighs, hands grazing her pussy on the upstroke, lingering, making pictures rise in her mind of his fingers sliding into her, two, maybe three at once, thrusting and teasing, getting her ready. Her breathing grows heavier, tiny little moans falling from her lips, and she can’t help imagining a self-satisfied grin on his handsome face.</p><p>Without warning, he grabs her hips and pulls them up to get her onto her knees. Michael’s eyes fly open, but before she can turn around, his hand plants itself between her shoulder blades to pin her down, the other hand moving in the periphery of her vision. By the time she makes sense of what she saw, cool, smooth oil is already running down her crack.</p><p>She groans, surprised and turned on, remembers what he said earlier, how pretty she is there, how good he could make her feel.</p><p>His hands rub the oil across her ass, and it’s a lot more than he used on her back, she can feel it, movement almost frictionless until he starts massaging her flesh in earnest. He pulls her cheeks apart and rubs directly across her hole. Michael arches her back, makes a sound into the pillow.</p><p>“It’s unfair how gorgeous you are,” he says as he keeps caressing her. “Even prettier like this. Slick and soft.”</p><p>He moves up on the bed, bends down, his chest so close to her back she can feel its solidity even without actual contact. “What do you want me to do?” he asks, breath humid against her neck.</p><p>She doesn’t answer, can’t answer.</p><p>His hand slides against her anus, one finger rubbing over it, pressing in, just a tiny bit, deceptively easy because of the oil, and it draws a sharp little noise from inside her throat.</p><p>“You like that?” he asks, coaxes, mouth still so close.</p><p>She nods, eyes closed, not sure why she can’t speak. When he moves away, she instantly misses the blanket of his presence on top of her. There’s more rustling, and she squeezes her eyes shut, digs into the mattress with her fingertips, pretending she doesn’t know what’s coming, that she doesn’t anticipate it, doesn’t want it.</p><p>The first touch of his tongue is shocking, wide and hot and perfect, and she moans, drives back against him. She expected him to tease her again, draw it out, but instead his tongue is confident, swirling around the pucker, licking and gliding along crevices no one has ever explored before. It’s outrageous, intimate and dirty, and she’s not sure any Vulcan would ever do this, not even during pon farr, when their minds are undone by primitive urges and blood fever.</p><p>Michael, however, loves it, loves it more than she would have dared imagine. Loves the enthusiasm with which he does it, the lack of hesitation, the deep dark sounds coming out of his mouth, reverberating against her, like he savors the experience, savors her taste.</p><p>His sleek, strong hands hold onto her hips, but not to still her instinctive movements, the deep roll of her pelvis, just to guide them, sync them up with what he does to her. Fuck, he might have cleaned her pussy not long ago, but she’s so wet again, can feel her blood throbbing hot, not just in her clit or where she’s clenching, but in her entire abdomen, like her core is burning up, pleasure building wild and primal.</p><p>She realizes how loud she’s gotten, that she’s started grabbing onto the sheets with tight fists, using the anchor point to thrust herself against his mouth. He doesn’t hold back, goes deep, pushing his tongue in until she can feel his stubble against the sensitive skin of her asshole, until she can feel the scruff on his chin rub at the soft, wet flesh of her pussy.</p><p>Everything is too much, everything isn’t enough. Her sweat is mixing with the oil, sluggish rivulets down her temples and her spine, gathering at the small of her back, the muscles beneath her slick skin moving, contracting and relaxing. When he doesn’t slow down, a new wave of sounds, grunts and moans, rises in her throat, surprising her when they come out as words. “I’m close,” she pants, “I’m so fucking close.”</p><p>If only he’d rub her clit, maybe even just slip a finger or two inside her pussy, she could come, could fall apart in no time at all.</p><p>He simply presses his face in with more force, his unshaven chin rough against her entrance, his clever tongue doing amazing, filthy things, his hold on her hips tight and firm, and she realizes that she might be able to come from this alone. She’s wrapped up in heat and desire and she wants it, wants to break the wave, fall apart, release all that delicious, delirious tension.</p><p>Something in her mind resists, won’t let her. Not without permission.</p><p>“Please,” she hears herself mewl, “I’m going to come.” A tremor runs through her at the mere words. “Please let me come.”</p><p>His tongue stills, his hands keeping her in place and Michael shivers, clenches, moans. No conscious thought, all physical instinct. He gives her one more filthy lick and pulls away, not much, still so close that she can feel his hot breath against her hole. “No,” he says, then licks at her again, more gently.</p><p>“Please,” she whines. “It won’t take much, I promise.”</p><p>He kisses the pucker, brushes against it with his tongue. “I know how you feel,” he murmurs.</p><p>The mattress moves, the loss of contact and heat acute, unwelcome. Michael scooches back, closer to where he must be. She’s tempted to open her eyes, look at him over her shoulder, but she doesn’t want to break this strange spell.</p><p>His hand trails across the curve of ass, fingers playing where his mouth used to be, not nearly as thrilling, but enjoyable, and she moans as she moves into his touch. “Please,” she whispers, “I need it so badly.” Her voice is hoarse with honesty, her whole body contracting with it. “I need you to get me there.”</p><p>“You know I can’t.” He sounds almost regretful, keeps stroking, matching the rhythm of her pelvis. “But I’m proud of you for asking.”</p><p>Michael feels so raw, exposed, heat rushing up her neck, burning her cheeks, when she hears what he somehow intuited she needs to hear. “You’re trying so hard to be good,” he adds, “even with how needy you are.”</p><p>He kisses her ass cheek, bites at it gently as his fingers keep rubbing against her hole, winding her up again, and soon she’s gasping and moaning, getting the pillow beneath her wet with saliva drooling from her mouth, moving her body against the sheets for some additional friction against her breasts, her nipples.</p><p>She can’t believe she’s letting anyone see her this way, that she’s letting a stranger see her this way. The thought only turns her on more. This is what she is to him, a stranger who wants to be touched in all kinds of wicked ways, wants to be called a whore, put in her place, who wants to be punished for disobedience and praised for compliance. If anyone found out, she’d die of shame, but here, with him, with his fingers pressing into her hole, his teeth scraping along the curve of her ass, she’s a sweaty, horny wreck. A slut who needs it, who’s gagging for it, who’s handing over her body and dignity in turn for filthy pleasures.</p><p>A string of dark, obscene sounds shudders through her, and if she could just get some extra friction, some stimulation where she needs it most, she could come. Fuck, Michael’s never been this close to orgasm without completion. She deserves this climax, deserves to plunge deep and white out, deserves to lose herself.</p><p>“Make me come. Make me come, please,” she begs, too aware of his touch, his mouth, of her own body, sticky with oil and sweat and her own juices.</p><p>His fingers keep busy, neither speeding up nor relenting, and he mumbles against her. “Are you close?”</p><p>“Yes, fuck, I’m close. So close. Just, please.” Her pitch is high, whiny, and her own neediness only gets her closer.</p><p>“You’re not doing it without my permission, though?” he asks, tension in his voice, a warning. “You’re going to be good for me, right?”</p><p>“Yes, yes, yes,” she says the word over and over. “I’m going to be good, so good, just let me come.” But no, that’s not the whole answer he wants. “I won’t come until you tell me to. I want it, but I won’t. I promise.”</p><p>She sounds ragged, desperate, and knows exactly why: she needs him to keep her close, almost there, teetering on the edge, and if he doesn’t believe she can control herself, he’ll stop. She can’t risk that, has to keep going until it’s too much, until this want clawing at her skin overwhelms her completely, blots out everything.</p><p>He gets her there again, right up to the threshold where she's begging and sobbing, then pulls back. Michael’s exhausted, pain and pleasure swirling, blending in her body, all nerve endings firing in an uncentered, extensive awareness, making her feel light and heavy all at once.</p><p>“It’s too much.” Her voice comes out brittle, speech slurred. “Stop teasing me. Stop making me wait. Give it to me. I need it, I need it so bad.” Another ramble, another outpouring of unfiltered need.</p><p>“Are you sure?” he asks, voice unexpectedly gentle.</p><p>“Yes. Fuck. I need it. I need it.”</p><p>For a moment, his finger inside her stills. “Color?” he asks.</p><p>And that's the catch right there. She needs to come, break and shatter, needs it so bad, down to her bones, but this ebb and flow of euphoria and denial, this teetering on an impossible edge, is precious, rare. Something she might never get to experience again. Not like this.</p><p>“Green,” she spits out, “you asshole.”</p><p>To her annoyance, he laughs. “If you want it, you have to own it. Not beg so pretty and then pin it on me.” </p><p>Michael huffs, annoyed. It’s more insight than she likes.</p><p>“I think we’re done here,” he says, and she makes a disbelieving sound. He won’t leave her hanging, would he? That’s not how this works. She looks over her shoulder, and he gives her a sunny smile, holding out his hand to help her turn over before settling in beside her, going in for a slow kiss. It’s a good kiss, another great one, even. She likes the gentleness after what they just did, what she just let him do, even if it’s disorienting, moving from begging to come into a kiss that feels so tender, intimate in a completely different way.</p><p>“I don’t know how you do it,” she mumbles into his mouth without really meaning to.</p><p>“What?” He pulls away just enough to look at her.</p><p>After what they just shared, it seems disingenuous to act demure. “Keeping me on the edge like that. I mean,” she swallows thickly, glad her fierce blush is probably invisible, “you got me so close again and again, and I was trying to hold back, I was, but just when,” she trains her eyes on the floor, avoiding his gaze, “when I was about to crack and come in spite of myself, that’s when you let up, just enough for me to get my bearings.” It’s not the whole truth, leaves out the part about how he can be so filthy and tender in turn, how he’s able to make her feel safe and at ease although they’re strangers, but it’s honest enough.</p><p>“I’ll tell you my secret,” he murmurs, licking into her mouth for a thorough yet sweet kiss. “Extensive research and monitoring.”</p><p>“Uh huh.” Michael tilts her head, skeptical.</p><p>“It’s true,” he insists, nuzzling against her cheek. “The different sounds you make. Those tiny little tremors when you get close. The way you twitch, like your body wants to pull me inside when it gets to be too much.”</p><p>Her eyes flutter shut. “It’s so hot, learning how to read you," he whispers and Michael all but whimpers.</p><p>“Anyway,” he leans back and grins, diffusing the rising tension. “I’m a big believer in the scientific method. Seems to serve me well tonight.”</p><p>There's a smile she can't help tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Me, too,” she agrees, giving him a quick peck on the lips before leaning in to suck on his tongue.</p><p>His chest vibrates against hers with a chuckle. “I noticed your … enthusiasm. For rigorous field testing, I mean.”</p><p>She lets out a snort that effectively breaks the kiss. “I don’t know if this is the worst pillow talk I’ve ever heard, but it’s certainly up there.”</p><p>“Ouch.” He presses his hand across his heart, and it accentuates the swell of his biceps, the firmness of his chest. “I’m giving my best here.”</p><p>Michael winks, something she can’t remember doing before. “Oh, I think you can do better.”</p><p>To her surprise, he gets back on his feet, his gaze traveling all over her body. “You’re right.” There’s a seductive note in his voice, and he reaches for the bottle on the bedside table. “We still have a massage to finish. Better shut up and get to work.“</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're over 20k, people. Expect the grand finale next week, and let me know how you like this part. As always, thanks for reading and kudos, and a very special thank-you to my lovely commenters. Enjoy, everyone!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He pours oil into his hand, warming it up between his palms as he sits down by her feet to rub it in. The blade of his hand presses along Michael’s arches, applying more and more pressure against a rigidity she wasn’t even aware of until her feet are blood-warm and loose. When she lets out a sigh, it’s one of relaxation. A smile spreads across his face in response. </p><p>This is just a prelude, she knows. His touch will turn sensual soon enough, and he’ll tease her again, but for now, she’ll allow herself to simply enjoy his attention, she decides and closes her eyes.</p><p>Soon, he starts a slow, slick ascent up her calves, strength in his grip, a deft confidence, the mattress moving beneath her when he re-positions himself on the bed. The higher his hands wander, the harder it becomes to keep her eyes shut, the more she’s aware of the proximity of his body. He softly caresses her knee, but then moves higher, firm pressure from the heel of his hand, like he’s trying to flatten her muscles. His thumbs draw tight, precise circles against the inside of her thigh until initial discomfort gives way to a lazy warmth that spreads out into her belly, awakens the anticipation of more intimate touches. </p><p>Once he’s reached the juncture of her thighs, Michael gives in and opens her eyes. He’s kneeling next to her waist, his eyes intent on her glistening legs as he continues to work her over. When she parts her legs, inviting him to explore, he only shoots her a sly grin. He progresses to her abdomen, palms exerting gentle pressure, fingers tracing her hip bones and the outline of her vulva until she’s squirming.</p><p>By the time he’s reached her sternum, hands running along her ribs, between her arms and her body, fingertips brushing against the curves of her breasts without touching where she really wants it, Michael’s had enough. </p><p>“Come on,” she grumbles, breaking the silence between them.</p><p>He doesn’t bother looking up, only shakes his head as he pours more oil into the hollow of his hand, taking her wrist and massaging every finger, every knuckle, before continuing up the back of her hand and forearm.</p><p>“You’ve got to be kidding me.”</p><p>His shrug is casual. “Just making sure you’re nice and loose everywhere.”</p><p>“You’re leaving out some important parts,” she points out, even as she has to admit that it’s pleasant, that she likes the slow, easy slide of his hands against her skin.</p><p>Leaning over her, he flicks his tongue across her nipple. Michael manages not to moan. “It’s too dangerous,” he murmurs. “Once I get started here,” he presses a kiss onto the tip of her breast, “or there,” his eyes flit lower, and her muscles contract in response, “I might not be able to stop.”</p><p>“Who says you have to?” she asks, pushing out her chest and licking her lips, leaving her mouth open, just a little bit.</p><p>“I like to be thorough,” he says as his thumbs slide against her pulse and his fingers dig into her neck, finding some residual tension there. She moans in a different kind of pleasure as he resolves the tightness she carries in her shoulders, instinctively closes her eyes again. <em>How is he so skilled at this? Is this part of his job?</em> </p><p><em>No</em>, Michael tells herself. That’s a personal question, and right now, personal is dangerous. Anonymity is why this is happening. They haven’t so much as exchanged names, and no matter how great he is at what he’s doing, there’s no reason that should change.</p><p>His body is so close as he works her over, finishes up her one arm before turning to the other. It feels good in different, confusing ways, but Michael simply lets it happen. She knows once he’ll turn his attention to her breasts, she won’t be able to keep her impatience at bay, she’ll try to coax him into doing more, making her feel even better. She knows she’ll beg him again. It's nice, staying in this undefined space for a while, where he literally feels her out, where she’s not yet desperate enough to say what she wants, beg for it, where he teases her, his hands making promises she’s deliciously sure his mouth is going to keep.</p><p>Sighing, she rubs her legs together, too aware of the heat simmering low in her belly. She expects him to scold her for her impatience – he’s so tuned into her body and its responses, there’s no way he doesn’t notice – but he chooses to ignore it.</p><p>“Okay,” he says, squeezing her hand. “Done.”</p><p>She raises one eyebrow and tilts her chin to indicate her chest.</p><p>“Well, almost,” he concedes, picking up the bottle of oil and shaking it lightly. “Warm or cold?”</p><p>It takes Michael a moment, longer than it should, to understand what he means.</p><p>Her body is deeply relaxed, her skin smooth and slick and pliable, and she can feel the warm steadiness of her own heartbeat inside her ribcage.</p><p>“Cold.”</p><p>He locks eyes with her, then puts his whole focus back on her body, letting a small rivulet of oil drizzle down between her breasts.</p><p>Michael takes a sharp breath. It’s colder than expected, or maybe her skin is hotter than she thought.</p><p>“More?” </p><p>She nods.</p><p>He starts moving the bottle around, dribbling a figure eight across her breasts, just outside her areolae, his eyes following the movement, like he’s riveted, like it’s a beautiful sight, and Michael feels the rise of goosebumps, the cool oil and his hot gaze turning her on, winding her tight.</p><p>“Damn,” he says, voice husky, “your breasts are so pretty.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “And so responsive.” More oil trickles onto her skin. “Your nipples hard already, and I haven’t even touched them, haven’t sucked on them yet.”</p><p>She pushes her body into the mattress, can’t help it, and her fingers tangle in the sheets beneath her, an insufficient outlet for the mounting tension inside of her.</p><p>Finally, he lets some of the oil run over her left nipple. Michael gasps. </p><p>“That’s what I mean,” he all but purrs and does the same on the right side. She presses her lips together to suppress another gasp, not give him the satisfaction, but it’s not subtle, and she knows he can read her, that he knows it got to her just as much the second time around.</p><p>Putting the bottle on the bedside table, his palms come to rest against her neck as he leans in to kiss her. Before she can protest, his hands start sliding down, finding the little pool of oil between her breasts, easy slide turning into a confident grasp as he presses his palms into her flesh, against her puckered nipples, like he’s trying to smooth them out. One of her favorite ways to be touched, the caress sending liquid heat straight to her groin. </p><p>She laughs into his mouth a little bit, thinking how she’s hit the jackpot tonight, and he pulls back, a trace of confusion in his eyes. “What?” he asks, not unkindly.</p><p>“I shouldn’t tell you,” she teases, intensely aware of the wet-warm throb in her pussy, “don’t want it to get to your head.”</p><p>“Oh,” his mouth pulls into a surprisingly attractive pout, “pretty please?” He gives her a long, filthy kiss, then whispers against her cheek, “If you don’t tell me now, I’ll just fuck it out of you later.”</p><p>The coil in her belly only winds tighter, and she moans, holds on to the lean muscles in his back. “I’m counting on that.”</p><p>Another kiss, even filthier than the last, as his fingers massage her breasts, rub and press into her, make her feel good. Eventually, his mouth moves down her chin, bites a string of kisses into the column of her throat. She can’t help but encourage him with soft moans and her hands on his shoulders, urging him down.</p><p>He puts his cheek against the side of her breast and breathes in – the smell of her or the oil, she can’t say. And then, finally, his mouth closes around her nipple, licking and sucking as his hands hold on to both breasts, kneading softly. When she gets louder, he becomes more playful, quick licks and soft blows of breath across her wet skin alternating with mischievous bites.</p><p>Her hands tangle in his thick, dark hair, rubbing a little oil into his scalp, and he seems to like it when she tugs and pulls at it. Michael can feel his hip bone move against her thigh with some satisfaction, a welcome reminder of how much he’s enjoying this, too, how much it gets to him.</p><p>“Gorgeous,” he says between sucks, “and delicious.” He takes a nipple between his teeth, not even a nip, just a tease. “Perfect.”</p><p>His head tilts and his face scrunches up like he forgot something. “There’s one place I haven’t properly explored yet,” he notes and starts kissing down her belly. “I should rectify that.”</p><p>“You better,” she agrees, starting to push him down in encouragement.</p><p>“Always trying to have the last word.” There’s no real annoyance in his voice, but he does stop his descent. “Even when I already promised to expand on my earlier survey.”</p><p>It’s not especially funny, but Michael still feels herself chuckle. “The research talk again?” she asks. “I thought we were done with that.”</p><p>He shakes his head, his nose tickling against her stomach. “No respect for scientific exploration.” There’s a gleam in his eye even as he shoots her a long-suffering look. </p><p>“Go on,” she says with an eye roll, “get some more science metaphors in. I don’t want you to be distracted once you start your,” she gestures downward, “expedition.”</p><p>The word makes him laugh, and he plants a wet kiss right onto her belly button. “Hand me a pillow, will you?”</p><p>He slides the pillow beneath Michael, and her legs fall open in the process, demanding his attention. His gaze is hot, blatant, and he quickly positions himself between her legs, some of his hair falling into his eyes, tickling against the insides of her thighs.</p><p>“Pretty as a flower,” he murmurs and dives in. His mouth feels just as good as it did when he had her lying on her stomach. He’s a tease about it, of course, but between the way he licks along her folds and caresses her opening, dipping in and out, deliberate, precise, he gets her panting and riled up before he even touches her clit, and once he does, he makes noises rise in her throat, curses fall from her lips, makes her hands curl in his hair to keep him where he is, where he’s supposed to be, where she needs him so bad.</p><p>He teases lower, too, makes her think about how close she was before, how shameless she begged for it, <em>for him</em>, and it only winds her tighter. Sucking on her clit, rubbing at her folds, moving his jaw so his short beard scratches at the insides of her thighs, at the sensitive skin of her pussy - he does everything right, makes her feel incredible, and it doesn’t take long for Michael to be close, so tantalizingly close.</p><p>“Fuck yeah,” she moans, loud and lewd, “I’m gonna, fuck, I’m gonna come. Please, please let me come.”</p><p>Naturally, he takes her begging as a sign to ease up on his efforts, tongue drawing soft circles when all she’d need are a few more seconds of perfect, hard suction. “Don’t make me wait,” she whines. “Don’t tease me.”</p><p>Laughing into her skin, he says, “But you make such lovely noises when I do,” and kisses the inside of her thigh, then bites and licks the same spot. All exciting, but not enough.</p><p>“Get on with it,” she grinds out, trying to pull his head back in.</p><p>With irritating composure, he disentangles her fingers from his hair and looks up. “I’ll go back where you want me,” his teeth scrape across his shiny bottom lip, “but only if you promise not to come without permission.”</p><p>Michael makes an undignified, frustrated noise and he sucks her clit into his mouth, quick and good, only to pull back and ask, cocky as anything, “Promise?”</p><p>“Yes,” she concedes, “I promise.”</p><p>And maybe she shouldn’t have because now he’s going at it hard, his hands sliding across her hips to hold her just so, sucking and slurping, his tongue so skilled and his lips so firm.</p><p>She’s squirming, writhing, shameless and turned on, so fucking close. “I’m almost there,” she groans and means it. “You’re making me come. Fuck, please let me come.”</p><p>He keeps sucking, modulates the pressure a tiny bit, like a signal that he heard her, that he could stop at any moment and would, and she wants to come so, so much. She’s so fucking wet, feels it on her thighs, running down the crack of her ass, mingling with all the oil, everything about her hot and slick and filthy-good. Like her body was made for this, made for dirty-hot sex with a beautiful stranger, made for coming apart under his sure hands and clever mouth.</p><p>“I need it,” she whimpers. “I need to come. I need it so bad. Please, please. Just let me, just …”</p><p>Her belly clenches and clenches again, and Michael can smell the sweat on her skin, smell her own arousal mingling with the oil. She’s under pressure, like she’s been in a Vulcan steam cavern too long, the air around her sweltering, oppressive; her mind sluggish yet hyper-focused on that deep, primal throb in her gut that keeps her moaning, keeps her sweating; the beat of her own heart like a frantic drum, too forceful to be ignored, crashing out of her chest, setting all her nerves on fire.</p><p>“Please,” she whines, pleads. “I need it. Just. Just let me. I’ll be so good, I promise. Just let me come.” </p><p>If she held him tight and let herself go, she’s pretty sure she could. Even if he pulled away, it might be too late. With the way she’s coiled tight, wound up, ready to explode, once she lets go, it’d be undeniable, glorious. But a strange sense of … duty, maybe, won’t let her disobey, won’t let her break her promise.</p><p>She arches off the bed, hands twisted into claws, gasped breaths shot through with high-pitched noises that scramble the repeated word <em>please</em> into new shapes, and he pulls away, an inch, no more. Michael still feels the loss keenly, wants his mouth back where it was, where he belongs, where he feels so right.</p><p>“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, looking up at her with hungry eyes. “You’re doing so, so well. Holding off, no matter how much I tease you, how much I try to get you to let go.” He kisses her pussy, slow and soft. “You’re dripping with juice, you pretty little thing. Everything about your body tells me how much you need it, but you’re holding back, even as you can’t help begging.” His tongue traces along the inside of her thigh. “I know it’s hard, so hard for a greedy little thing like you, but you’re doing it.”</p><p>She hates it and loves it; how confident he is, how sly, what a tease. Spelling it out like that, making her face how much she wants this, how close to the edge she truly is. It’s uncanny, this talent he has for balancing praise and provocation, getting precisely to the point she craves, where shame and arousal meet. Where she can’t help thinking about the wrong boy as she gets herself off in her parents’ shower, where she can’t overcome her primal urges because she’s just a little human slut who needs it, who’s debasing herself because she needs to fuck like an animal.</p><p>“What about you?” Michael tries for a caustic tone, even as her pussy is aching with the need to climax, as her fingers can’t stop carding through his hair. “Ready to fuck me yet?” She shoots a look downward, although she can’t see his cock, has no idea if he’s hard again. “Or still trying to recover from what I did to you?” The smug quirk of her mouth feels almost real.</p><p>“Such a mouthy little slut,” he says, amused. “Trying to rile me up even as my whole face is dripping with your juice.”</p><p>She sucks in a breath, surprised, and he stretches his neck with irritating calm. “But to answer your question: I’m getting there.” A quick kiss on her stomach, nowhere close to her pussy. “You won’t have to wait too long till I’ll make you beg for my cock.”</p><p>Her derisive snort is a reflex more than anything else. It’s exactly what he’s going to make her do, she knows, and she’s going to love it even as she feels embarrassed, exposed, wicked. <em>Because </em>she’s going to feel all those things.</p><p>“Shall we try again?” he asks. “I’ll eat you out so good, make out with your pussy till you’re this  close,” he puts his thumb and forefinger together, his whole hand glistening with what she knows is more than just oil, “and no matter how much you want to, you won’t come.”</p><p>“Yes,” Michael hisses her agreement, impatient for his mouth, want running through her in erratic currents. She’s wild with how much she needs to come, but it’s not enough, not yet. The closer to climax he gets her, the less she needs to think, the less she <em>can</em> think, her mind trapped in a spiral of her own desires. That’s what she wants, that’s where she wants to be. “Now fucking get on with it.”</p><p>He eats her out enthusiastic and messy, so fucking perfect between her legs, her body swinging like a pendulum between bone-deep sighs and the cut-off sounds of an impending orgasm she’s trying so hard to stave off. The only way to dissipate enough of the tension is to keep talking, filthy demands and pleas fall from her mouth as her hands rake through his hair, dig into his neck, claw at his shoulders, her body writhing like an uncontrollable thing.</p><p>And then, when she’s so close again she’s whining with it, begging him in a voice she scarcely recognizes, that’s when he starts moving up, ignoring the press of her hands trying to get him back between her legs, taking his time as he kisses up her stomach, lingers at her breasts, sucking and nibbling until she moans in frustrated pleasure, until she ruts shamelessly against him, until he shushes her and holds her down, stilling her movements, denying her friction and stimulation where she needs it most even as he drives her mad with how much attention he pays to her chest.</p><p>Finally, he bites his way up her throat, along her jaw and kisses her. It’s rough and sloppy and wonderful. He needs both hands to anchor her hips, so Michael’s in full control of the kiss, and she makes it deep and filthy, fills up his mouth with her tongue and her moans, rubs her breasts against him, slide easy because of the oil coating every single inch of her skin, her nipples so sensitive she can feel the hairs on his chest, the tight nubs of his nipples.</p><p>He repositions himself and she groans, deep and low, when she feels his cock against her thigh, thick and hard and exactly what she needs.</p><p>“Fuck me.” Her voice is rough with want. “I need your cock inside me. Don’t make me wait. Stop making me wait.” It’s too much, out of control. He didn’t even have time to deny her, and she’s already begging. It disgusts her and turns her on how gone she is, a primal echo vibrating through her.</p><p>“Soon,” he murmurs and kisses her again, his cock sliding too close to where she wants him, yet too far away. “I’ll give it to you soon, make it so good. Just a little longer.” The kiss is too light, and his fingers flutter up along her stomach, all he way to her face to hold it softly, tenderly. Michael can hardly think, acts on instinct alone when she grabs at his waist and ass, draws him in, tries getting him to slide home.</p><p>He catches her wrist in one hand, strong and sure, even with the thin film of oil that’s all over them, all over the bed, everywhere. Amusement and disapproval mingle in his expression, like he didn’t expect her to do better, but still hoped she might surprise him.</p><p>“Nuh, nuh, nuh.” He purses his lips, and it only draws attention to his swollen, wet mouth. “I know you need it,” his gaze is stern, but his voice kind, “but you haven’t quite earned it yet. We both know that, don’t we?”</p><p>He pushes off of her, kneels between her spread legs, hair a mess and body glistening, his cock so pretty, so promising she has to fight the urge to push off the mattress and tackle him, straddle him, take him inside of her and ride him.</p><p>Michael’s never been denied like this. She’s always in charge. She’s the one they’re begging. Part of her wants to call this off, say she’s had enough play, that she needs it now, hard and fast and complete, but even through the haze of need and arousal, she’s curious how long he’ll be able to keep it up, how far they can go. What feats her body is capable of, how much she can take, how tight she can be wound before she snaps.</p><p>So, again, she defers. Again, she doesn’t say <em>red</em> like she knows she can, like she maybe should. Again, she keeps herself and her pleasure at the mercy of this stranger, and fuck, does it feel amazing, even as it burns, as it sends little shock waves through her bloodstream, like she’s amped up, overcharged.</p><p>“Will you be a good girl now?” he asks, voice dark and annoyingly sure. “Will you stay still?”</p><p>She grunts, recalcitrant but excited. “Okay,” she bites out, “but you better deliver.”</p><p>He laughs. “Of course.”</p><p>“Make it worth it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been a minute since I last updated this story, but as you are all aware, this has been quite the year.</p><p>Thank you to everyone who commented or left kudos. I'm always glad to know there are people out there who enjoy this lovely, star-crossed ship. </p><p>My biggest thanks go to Frangipani, who beta'ed all chapters and kept poking me until I finally went back to edit this - grand? - finale. <em>You are an amazing person and wonderful beta, and while I would absolutely throw you out an airlock to save Ash Tyler, I'd feel pretty bad about it.</em></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He nods wordlessly and starts kissing her ankle. “That old hat again,” Michael says, even as the visual turns her on, him crouching in front of her, his care and attention solely on her.</p><p>“Shut up and take it.” He murmurs the words into her skin and doesn’t stop doing what he’s doing. It’s such a strange, unusual kind of intimacy, his tongue sliding across the heel of her foot, lips whispering against the thin, sensitive skin inside the crook of her knee, mouthing along the curve of her hip, exploring her ribs one by one, licking along the hollow of her armpit.</p><p>She curses under her breath, but mostly manages to stay still, focused on his touch like on the flame of a meditation candle; her oil-slick hands clinging to the sheets, her back pressing against the mattress to keep herself immobile. By the time he trails along her throat with his tongue, she’s close to breaking, to sobbing and begging, but miraculously, she holds on until she feels the heat of his breath against her ear.</p><p>“I knew you could be good,” he whispers. “Keeping it together so well. I’m proud of you.” It should mean nothing coming from a stranger but still makes the fist in her belly curl, makes her moan.</p><p>“I was prepared to do the same thing to your left side, but since you did like you were told, I think you deserve a treat.” He’s baiting her, but she’s so out of it with scarcely contained need that it’s hard to so much as open her eyes. All she can say when she does is, “Please.”</p><p>He strokes across her hair, finger tracing her hairline, the gesture absurdly sweet. “You’re being so, so good,” he murmurs and pulls back, kneeling between her legs, and Michael, sluggish as she feels, wants to protest at the lack of contact, but instead waits for what will happen, what he will do to her, <em>give</em> her.</p><p>He smiles, like he knows her thoughts, like he’s pleased, so pleased, and then grabs his cock and bends forward, nudging it against her entrance, hot and solid against her feverish wetness.</p><p>“Hmmm,” he moans, enjoyment obvious, and his eyes slide shut as he pulls back just enough to rub his flesh through her folds - back and forth, back and forth - until the head of his cock nudges against her swollen clit, making her gasp, making her want; her hips pushing up, more instinct than anything.</p><p>“Sorry, I-“ the words slip out without thought. Michael doesn’t want him to pull away again, wants to keep that delicious connection, feel him against her, getting her so close. </p><p>“I know,” he says, voice gentle, hands stroking her hips. “You didn’t mean to. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”</p><p>She feels her face relax even as a stray thought tells her this makes no sense, being thankful, feeling like he does her a favor, but she can’t question it now. Her body’s tingling, on fire with the way he’s sliding his cock through her folds, across her clit, getting her close again.</p><p>“I wanna come,” she murmurs, mindless. “Please, I want it so bad.”</p><p>“I know,” he soothes her, changing his pattern to a circle around her clit, and she slings her legs across his hips to draw him closer. He groans and holds himself steady, lets her do the work of moving against him, getting her pleasure, knowing it won’t be enough. </p><p>“Please,” she begs him, voice thready. “<em>Please.</em>”</p><p>He inhales, a deep breath, like he’s centering himself, like this is almost too much for him, too, even though he hasn’t been back to hardness for long, but then he smiles, slow and lewd. “Use your words.”</p><p>Michael grunts, annoyed even through the mounting want, but already knowing she’ll give in. “Please fuck me,” she says it loud, demands it. “Give me your cock. I want it, I need it. I need to come.”</p><p>His hands slide onto her thighs, still wrapped around him, guiding them down onto the mattress. “On your knees.”</p><p>She grumbles, driving up against him one more time to feel his cock against the wetness of her pussy. “Seriously?”</p><p>“I said that’s how I’d take you: on your knees and begging for it.”</p><p>He gets up from the bed and flips her, gets her kneeling right in front of him. “And I’m trying to be true to my word.”</p><p>The sheets she’s facing are smeared with what she knows to be more than oil, intensifying her awareness of what’s hanging in the air around them: sweat and arousal, heat and salt. Damp and heady, obscene.  </p><p>His hands rove over her waist and lower, firm grip and rough slide. “Just look at you,” he says, “pretty as a picture.”</p><p>“Get on with it,” she barks and pushes her ass out, baring herself to him.</p><p>“You were so docile, laying there, rubbing yourself against me like a glorious little slut,” he says. “Seems like this position brings out your insolence.”</p><p>He grabs between her legs, heel of his hand pressing against her asshole, his strong fingers splayed against her pussy. “I always thought kneeling was a submissive position, one of worship.”</p><p>She snorts, even as she can’t help pushing into his grasp, getting his hand wet with oil and juices. “Give me something to worship, then,” she demands, “fuck me, give me your cock. Make me feel it.”</p><p>His grip tightens rhythmically, firm pressure and release, his middle finger close to her clit but not quite there. A low groan escapes her and Michael feels herself grow impossibly wetter.</p><p>“Soon,” he murmurs, “real soon.”</p><p>“Please,” she pushes harder against him. “I need you inside me.”</p><p>She can hear herself grinding against his hand, sloppy, wet sounds that should be embarrassing but only turn her on more.</p><p>“And then?” he asks, and the tone of his voice makes it sound like a test. Michael desperately wants to pass but she can hardly think. Then it comes to her.</p><p>“I won’t come, I promise,” she whines, “Not until you tell me to.”</p><p>His hand pulls away in a caress. “Good girl.”</p><p>There’s motion behind her and she feels his cock nudge against her opening. She tenses, holds her body still, even as her breath stutters loudly.</p><p>She thinks she can hear him – feel him? – chuckle before he grabs onto her hips and slides home. A final test of patience, of obedience. And she passed. This time, she passed.</p><p>After all this time, after all this begging, it’s glorious to finally, finally feel full, feel stretched, have him inside of her, and for a few seconds, she’s content to just take it in, get accustomed to the way her body molds itself around him, tensing against the welcome intrusion.</p><p>His hands on her hips draw warm circles, but he doesn’t move, only hums appreciatively.</p><p>Eventually, she twists, tries to push against him, but his hold is strong, keeping her in place.</p><p>“Get on with it,” she says through gritted teeth. “Get moving.”</p><p>“There she is,” he laughs. “I knew you’d talk back again soon enough.”</p><p>A light slap on her ass makes Michael clench. “Just a few more moments to appreciate the view.” He strokes across the skin he just slapped. “You look so perfect with my cock in you. Like you were made for this, for me.”</p><p>She wiggles again. “Less admiration, more action,” she grunts. Damn, she needs him to move, needs him to fuck her.</p><p>“Hold still and I just might,” he says, and she grumbles even as she tries to stay still. She’s completely at his mercy, exposed, slick and hot and ready. “So gorgeous,” his voice is soft, almost dreamy, “I’m gonna make it so good for you.”</p><p>She presses her lips together until they roll between her teeth, incisors digging into delicate skin, a trace of copper. And then he moves. Slow, deep strokes at first that make her expel all air in a huff, make her hips move in counterpoint.</p><p>Most of her weight is on her forearms, and Michael feels every thrust in her whole body. When he runs his hand across her spine and pushes her down a little more, her nipples drag against the crumpled sheets beneath her with every stroke, adding to the swirl of sensations, the static skipping across her skin.</p><p>“You feel amazing,” his voice is rough, “so wet and so hot and so fucking tight.”</p><p>She clenches at the praise, back arching beneath his hand, pussy pushing back onto his cock.</p><p>“Is this okay?” he asks like he doesn’t know, like she’s not whimpering and squirming with pleasure.</p><p>“Yes,” she hisses. “Fuck, it’s <em>good</em>.”</p><p>He slows the roll of his hips and there’s a slyness in his voice when he asks, “So I should just keep going like this?” He slows down even more. “Or go even slower?”</p><p>“You know what I want,” she grits out, done with being teased, contractions running through her body like it wants to compel him to move without words. He won’t let her get away with that, he’s proved he won’t.</p><p>“Tell me.” It’s a command.</p><p>“Fuck me hard,” she hisses, and is rewarded with a quick, singular snap of his hips. “Fast,” she adds, and that earns her a few more in swift succession. “Damn, I want it deep and hard and fast. Please, I wanna to come.”</p><p>He gets a good rhythm going, almost enough, and she’s so sweaty, so riled up, panting and moaning, mouth dry and throat raw, a renewed tension in her legs as she pushes against him, fucks herself onto his cock as much as the firm grip of his hands will allow.</p><p>“If I give you more, you promise not to come?”</p><p>She whines in protest and he slows down.</p><p>“Yes,” she sobs the word, so focused on the overwhelming sensations, on the release he could give her. “Yes, I do. I’m not gonna come unless you tell me to. I promise I’m not. Please, just give me more. I need you to fuck me harder.” She’s babbling, and she hates it and loves it. Being reduced to a blubbering, needy mess, to beg this stranger to fuck her good and proper.</p><p>“Okay,” he says, “I believe you,” and picks up speed. His hands dig into her oil-and-sweat-slicked flesh and his sure stance on the floor gives him the leverage he needs to really go for it, give it to her hard. Fuck, it’s glorious.</p><p>She writhes and moans, and the steady stream of filthy praise falling from his lips only winds her tighter. He talks about her mouth and her tits and her pussy, how amazing she is, what a good girl, what a good little slut, and she loves it all, the words riling her up, higher and higher, blotting out all thought and self-consciousness.</p><p>“Please, I’m so close.” She’s at a breaking point when he fucks her so hard she’s skidding across the mattress. “I need it, I can’t hold off.” He pulls her close, pushes her body around like a ragdoll, his heavy breathing and dark moans mingling with her own. “I can’t-” How can he still be hard inside of her? How hasn’t he come yet? He must be close, as close as she is. “I can’t-”</p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” she hears herself beg, raw and greedy. “Please, come inside me, fill up my pussy like you did my mouth.” She’s loud, voice pitching high and even the sheets and mattress can’t muffle her pleas.</p><p>And finally, he breaks, gives in. “Yes,” he growls. “<em>Fuck, yes.</em> Come for me, gorgeous, squeeze around me and milk me dry.”</p><p>His grip on her hurts in the best way, hips pumping as he grunts, and in the end, Michael doesn’t even need a finger on her clit to get there, explode in a hyper-sensitive whiteout, stars falling around her eyes, her lungs filling with air in erratic bursts.</p><p>When he slips from her and manhandles her to spoon against his chest, she thinks he’s finished, they both are, but then his hand pushes between her legs.</p><p>“You’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he pants into the nape of her neck, one hand snaking around to grab her breast, the other rubbing her clit. “You need fingers inside to get there again, or is this good?”</p><p>“This,” she says, almost hiccups. “This.” He keeps it up, his hot chest sticky against her back, his hand rough against her nipple and, fuck, the fingers on her clit, no finesse, but so much delicious friction. Soon, she climaxes again, and he strokes her through it, laughs into her neck. “You make such pretty noises when you come,” he says and keeps going until she starts twitches, whining, “Stop, it’s too much,” even as she keeps grinding her hips into the movement of his hand.</p><p>“Oh, I think you have one more in you,” he murmurs, breath humid against her ear, “you’re gonna get your money’s worth,” and she can hardly believe it, but he’s right, the coil winds tighter, hotter, and she knows he’s gonna get her there again. “Fuck,” she moans, “fuck, I’m gonna. Again. I’m gonna. I can’t-” before the wire snaps and another orgasm overtakes her, turning her into a shaking, incoherent mess. Finally, he stops.</p><p>Pressing a kiss onto her shoulder, he tugs one of the extra blankets over both of them, holding her close. His one arm is draped over her head, and she can smell him, spicy and sharp, as his breath ghosts against the nape of her neck.</p><p>“Damn, I’m beat,” he yawns.</p><p>Michael slowly becomes aware of the state of herself, her skin slick with sweat and oil, an abundant, glorious mess between her thighs, all her muscles overworked and loose, warm and spent. She wriggles. She should probably get up, take a shower, get dressed.</p><p>“If you have to go, you have to go,” he mumbles, voice fucked-out and sleepy, “but if not, how about we just relax for a few minutes?” There’s a soft bump against her jaw, and she realizes he’s burrowing into her. “I mean, I’m not sure <em>I</em> could walk steady right now, and you were definitely more … athletic tonight than me.”</p><p>Despite her exhaustion, Michael has to laugh. “Athletic. That’s what you call it?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he mumbles, “I do.” His forehead rubs across the back of her neck, and he strokes a caress over her waist, a circle around her belly.</p><p>She probably shouldn’t, but then again, she just did intimate, unspeakable things with him, and her mind is still sluggish, still clouded. No, not clouded, almost empty in a way it never really is, like she’s completely drained, a bone-deep satisfaction suffusing her that’s only emphasized by the occasional sharp twitch in her muscles, harbingers of the soreness that will no doubt have fully developed come morning.</p><p>Before she can reason herself out of it, Michael lets herself drift back into his embrace for a dreamless nap.</p><p>--</p><p>She’s not sure how much time has passed when she opens her eyes, but she doesn’t think it’s been too long. Wiggling in his arms, she turns around.</p><p>“Hold on,” she says, noticing something, “are you sleeping in the wet spot?”</p><p>He laughs, groggy but amiable. “The least I can do.” He shrugs. “I went a little overboard with the water and the oil.” He looks through his lashes and it’s unexpectedly sweet – or maybe not so unexpected.</p><p>“No,” she says, “it was perfect.” His answering smile is so pleased she can’t feel bad she said it.</p><p>“Good,” he nods. “I’m glad.”</p><p>It’s warm under the sheets with him, but the mess between her legs and the tackiness of her skin feel more uncomfortable by the minute, so Michael pushes the blanket off and says, “I should shower.”</p><p>His mouth curves lazily. “You’d like some company?” he asks, and she’s tempted, but no. This has gone on longer than any of her previous encounters. She should get ready and get out, get some sleep in the quiet of her own hotel room. She has a shuttle to pilot in the morning.</p><p>“No, thank you,” she says quietly, touching his arm in a gesture she doesn’t quite understand herself. “I do need to leave soon.”</p><p>“Of course,” he says and watches her as she gets out of bed, picks up her clothes and enters the bathroom.</p><p>She makes quick work of her shower, scrubbing herself clean from head to toe, trying not to think of what the different aches mean, how her body has turned into a map of everything they did, how there seems to be no inch of her skin he hasn’t touched.</p><p>Her clothes still smell of the bar where they met, but at least she’s got rid of the smell of sex that’s been emanating from her, and when she looks into the mirror, she looks a little worse for wear, but relaxed. At ease.</p><p>Straightening her jacket, she opens the door into the room. He’s still lying on the bed, although she notices that he scooted over to where she used to lie.</p><p>“Out of the wet spot, I see,” she remarks, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>He chuckles. “My gallantry only extends so far.”</p><p>Even with his hair a mess and his eyes bleary, he looks lovely: kind face with a long nose and soft mouth, wide shoulders and narrow hips, the white sheets slung low in beautiful contrast to his skin, the trail of dark hair from his navel going down, disappearing into the fabric.</p><p>“I have to go,” Michael says with a half-smile, and as she passes the bed, he leans forward and takes her hand. He looks up at her, gaze warm and deep.</p><p>“Thank you,” he says quietly. “You are amazing,” and kisses the palm of her hand.</p><p>She pulls back slowly, almost reluctantly.</p><p>“You, too,” she says and walks away.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>for Frangipani</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Michael wakes up in her hotel the next day, she’s predictably sore, but it’s a good ache. The hydration and phases of rest – of lying down, at the very least – probably helped. The massages, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s warmth rising from her breastbone up her neck and into her cheeks, her pulse picking up from mere memories, but it doesn’t feel so shameful somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she gets ready for the day, she purposefully doesn’t notice the way her mouth might curve into a private smile when she thinks of him, of his hands and his lips and his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entering the shuttle, Michael’s gaze catches on the medkit. She could administer a hypospray to dispense with any lingering discomfort, but that seems excessive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flying this close to non-Federation space is always a risk, especially in a lone shuttlecraft with no real firepower, but Michael’s a decent pilot and all her credentials are in order, so she’s not too worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nevertheless it’s prudent to stay in the front seat in case she has to switch back to manual control at a moment’s notice. Her route includes long stretches of nothing but dead, open space, and she uses that time to check the updated conference schedule and go over the notes for her own talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The list of speakers reminds Michael of how the Federation’s sheer size can lead to scientific contributions from outside powers being overlooked or underappreciated, and there are several papers and two panels she’s actively looking forward to. Small talk might not be her strong suit, but fact- and issue-driven discussions with fellow scientists can be thought-provoking, intellectually invigorating, and Michael appreciates that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s only a few hours away from her destination when a Corellian patrol ship stops her. They have her wait just shy of the mandated ninety minutes maximum before a burly security officer beams aboard for an annoyingly detailed checkpoint interview while his crew carries out a deep search as well as a tech exam. They’re probably disappointed the Shenzhou’s shuttle isn’t exactly the latest model. The process is tedious and irritating, but since they technically abide by all applicable laws and accords for this region, Michael tries to keep her tone and expression neutral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she’s back on course, she sends a message to the organizers, letting them know she’ll be flying in late, but that her presentation the next morning won’t be affected. At least she’s not missing any part of the conference proper, merely the mixer, which isn’t something she was looking forward to anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two suns never set completely on Skyla 7, so when Michael’s shuttle descends, she’s treated to a beautiful twilight view of the conference location. The building’s nestled into a cove right by the waterfront and a verdant grove slopes up not far in the distance. The lushness of it, the wealth of green and water, brings a smile to her face. Growing up on Vulcan has given Michael a deep appreciation for this kind of vibrant, fertile landscape, and she hopes she’ll be able to take a beachside walk or two, maybe even go for a hike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She discovers that the theme of overabundance extends to a beautifully decorated room with an exceedingly comfortable bed as well as to a more than generous breakfast selection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the Shenzhou, Michael mostly chooses her meals according to nutritional values and health concerns – some human staples as well as a few Vulcan dishes usually – but when she’s somewhere new, she likes to be more adventurous with her food. She’s still in the process of filling her plate when a pair of upturned palms appears in her field of vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael Burnham,” a familiar alto says. “May our meeting be our blessing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael puts down her plate and turns towards the woman. “Noruk Ka,” she replies, touching her own fingertips to those in front of her. “May our meeting be our blessing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ka claps her hands and smiles. “It is good to see you, child.” Michael agrees. Ka is a luminary in the field of xeno-anthropology, and ever since they met at a conference three years ago, they’ve been keeping in touch intermittently. Their messages and calls are always work-related, of course, but Ka’s keen intellect and sharp wit mean Michael looks forward to them beyond that.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you enjoy gespar,” she tells Michael and points at a bowl of puffy spheres, “you should try these.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do and I shall,” Michael says, already putting two of the puffs on her plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come and sit with me,” Ka offers. “Unless you have other matters to attend to while breakfasting.” She looks at the padd in Michael’s hand, and Michael appreciates the out but decides not to take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will join you shortly,” she promises and turns to find cutlery and napkins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, she sits down next to Ka.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was glad to see you should attend,” Ka tells her as she carefully opens a Karaachi flower to get at the fleshy part.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your paper on Strevalian Leans inside an active mating vortex is half the reason I signed up,” Michael says truthfully. She still can’t quite believe that there’s going to be actual footage of the mating event. Every probe that’s ever tried to capture information from inside a vortex has been thoroughly crushed, its debris only telling the tale once the Leans had long gone and the temporary vortex had dissolved on its own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ka’s laugh is big and deep. “It is the most amazing thing, is it not?” The hint of smugness in her voice is well-deserved for such a breakthrough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shall not spoil the paper for you,” Ka’s black irises pulse green with mirth, “but I will say that the modifications on our shuttle and drones took almost three years to complete.” She smacks her lips, clearly savoring the first bite of her flower meat. “And if it had not been for a very level-headed yet daring pilot, the data and I might still have been lost to the vortex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael takes a bite from the puffs Ka recommended. Their savory sweetness does remind her of gespar, but then there’s a soft, surprisingly pleasant prickling on her tongue that’s so unexpected it makes her gasp. “These really are good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you.” Ka swirls her hands in a gesture Michael isn’t familiar with. “Oh! Right on cue, there’s my trusty pilot.” To Michael’s surprise, the person Ka’s pointing at is also wearing a Starfleet uniform, a rare sight around here. They’re tall with dark hair, currently pouring themselves a cup of coffee. “I shall be back in a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael nods and starts peeling her steamed pheeran egg. A local delicacy, as one of the helpful signs in Federation Standard informed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dear Michael,” Ka says just as Michael is about to pull off the last piece of eggshell. “May I introduce you to my pilot and co-conspirator.” She gives another one of her big laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael quickly slides her palm across a napkin before extending her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she looks up, her breathing stops. Soft lips and a friendly smile. A long nose and dark eyes. His hair is slicked back and he’s freshly shaven, but it’s him. Unmistakably, undeniably him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, a minute brightening in his smile, but he doesn’t say or do anything to indicate that they’ve met before. Instead, he simply takes her outstretched hand and shakes it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ash Tyler,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael Burnham.” Somehow, she holds his gaze, keeps her expression calm and her voice level. Somehow, she ignores the warmth spreading out from where they touch, ignores the way her pulse suddenly pounds low in her belly. “Nice to meet you, too.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I probably won't continue this story beyond the epilogue, but for those who might be interested, I thought posting this would be a good opportunity to broadly sketch out the future I had planned for this iteration of Ash and Michael, and how I even tried to make their story fit in with canon. So here goes:</p><p>Story Two was supposed to take place over the five days of the conference. After some uncertainty and surreptitious glances, Ash and Michael wind up on a late-night walk together, and he makes clear that the ball is completely in her court and that he won’t push her or treat her differently in front of her colleagues either way. After making out in the grove and holding hands on their way back, Michael takes Ash to her room, and his tenderness and care lead her to decide that she can let herself have this for a few days, that she can allow herself to be softer and more affectionate with him in this very contained timeframe, so he spends every night with her until the conference ends, and while they aren’t demonstrative in public, they do steal moments here and there for kisses and more before they have to part. Ash tells Michael that he understands she doesn’t think a relationship is feasible with how far apart they’re stationed, but that he’d still like to be her friend. (There were to be spirited arguments about how the Federation treats scientific contributions from non-Federation actors. I have a lot of headcanons about this topic and how it connects to Ash’s work as a pilot.)</p><p>Story Three was supposed to start about six months later. True to his word, Ash has been keeping in touch with Michael, following her lead and keeping it friendly (if a bit flirty). Michael finds she enjoys writing and holo-chatting with him and slowly learns to appreciate a gentler outside perspective, especially when she has issues with people under her command. Eventually, Ash tells her of his new assignment, and that he could arrange it so a week of his passage would be spent on the Shenzhou. Michael is both excited and anxious, telling him she can’t take time off but would still like to see him. They spend a passionate night together, but when Michael declines or last-minute cancels all activities he suggests that would take them outside their quarters (have lunch together, check out the hydroponic lab, attend a crew concert), things come to a head. Ash tells her that he knows he has no claim on her, but that as a friend he still deserves to be treated with respect, and that her being embarrassed to even be seen with him makes him feel like her dirty little secret. Michael tries to explain that this isn’t about him, how much she values their friendship, but that she can’t seem to reconcile the professional persona she has established with her crew and the softer, more human side of herself that shows itself so readily when she is with him. Much of her thoughts remain unsaid and they part on uncertain terms, but still wishing each other well.</p><p>Story Four was supposed to start with a retelling of 1x6 Lethe. In this version, Michael has already learned about Ash staying aboard the Discovery and his seven month long captivity, so she has come to terms enough to not reveal herself when Tilly talks about him and goes to sit with him in the mess hall. With the way their interaction is going, Michael isn’t quite sure if Ash is pretending not to know her (either because of how they last parted or because she’s a convicted criminal now) or if months of Klingon torture have impacted parts of his memory. Either way, she can’t help reading his “I tend to assess people in the here and now. You're a functioning crew member of a Federation starship. Right here, right now,” as an invitation for a fresh start. </p><p>So this got long. I’m sending good thoughts and well wishes your way and hope that 2021 will bring better things for us all.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Like all my stories, this is part of the <a href="https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject">LLF Comment Project</a>, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:</p>
<p><b>Feedback</b>: short comments, long comments, questions, constructive criticism, "&lt;3" as extra kudos, reader-reader interaction</p>
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<p>You can also hit me up on tumblr: <a href="http://drstrangewillseeyounow.tumblr.com/">drstrangewillseeyounow</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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